


We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on

by therudestflower



Series: I'd count my blessings but you can only be expected to count so high [3]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Estranged Parents, F/M, Fluff and angst all at once, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Liberating rich people of their money, M/M, Multi, Poly Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Summer after season 1, Supportive DCS involvement, The humidity and heat are their own characters, Therapy, summer fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therudestflower/pseuds/therudestflower
Summary: Blue skies stretch into scorching summer days on the water, nights at the boneyard, and scamming to get ahead.JJ's still safe, loved and cared for, and facing a summer surviving therapy and Tourons instead of square groupers and a manhunt. He was more prepared for a manhunt.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara/Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Pope (Outer Banks), Kiara/Pope (Outer Banks)
Series: I'd count my blessings but you can only be expected to count so high [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744066
Comments: 276
Kudos: 219





	1. The sun climbs the sky for us

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re reading this without reading “As we are watching the sky unwinding”--don’t! Read that first! Both fics will be a lot more fun that way.

  
  


JJ categorically assumed that nearly everything about his new house was better than living with his dad, because ever since Pope’s parents picked him up from a group home it had been. Yeah, he got grounded for ridiculous reasons and basically got forced to go homework at gunpoint but virtually everything else was just _better_. 

But the heat was a dead hard exception to that. JJ didn’t know if it was because their house was further from the water than Dad’s house and the chateau. He _did_ know that it was because his mom used the actual oven to make rice and soups, and fish when it was raining, and there was a lot wrong with his crackhead parents, but they never turned on a damn oven in June. 

The first week of June, the second real week of summer, the heat index reached 112 degrees but in their house, it had to be at least 170. And his and Pope’s bedroom was on the second floor, where it was 190 degrees and their bed was 340 degrees. 

He woke up to sheets so damp they could splash and Pope’s bare torso pressed against his own, and his elbow resting on JJ's back to lazily hold his phone over his face. JJ grabbed his phone and threw it across the room then shoved him away. He was hungover as shit. If he remembered right they barely made it home after an on fire party at the boneyard where Kie climbed a knocked over lifeguard stand to yell about microplastics, and JJ accidentally gave JM Martin a bloody nose and they maybe became friends after that? 

JJ hazily checked his arm and found dried blood on his skin. Yep, that happened. “Bro fucking move. You’re a thousand degrees.” 

Pope wiped his sweaty hand on JJ’s face and he smacked it away. “It’s gonna be 90 most of today.” 

He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “What time is it?” 

“I have no idea, you threw my phone. You’re paying if you broke it” JJ didn’t even sit up, he heard Pope get up and go get his phone before he even stopped talking. “Six fifteen. I bet all of Figure Eight is like, deep in REM sleep right now,” Pope said while he made getting ready sounds. 

He groaned but this time like he was trying to break the space-time continuum with volume. With a three-second countdown he sat up and winced. 

“Is that for real or you just hungover?” Pope asked. 

“Hungover,” JJ said. “How are you not all morning zombied out?” 

“I woke up a while ago because you stapled every degree of yourself to me, and whined when I tried to move away. Way too hot to sleep.”

JJ snorted. “When you working with Heyward?” 

“Till he says I’m done.” 

“You should get a real job.”

“Oh, please, please go downstairs and tell him it’s not real. Let me watch.” 

Heyward deciding Pope was done was usually accelerated but JJ showing up and helping for an hour then being extremely annoying, so they figured they could do whatever they wanted by two. They texted Kie and made the plan to meet. 

JJ showered and came back to get dressed and check on his snake. Dr. Felonious Rex poked her head out from under her log and lost interest when she figured he wasn’t holding a dead mouse. “Sorry, Dr. FR. You’re gonna eat tomorrow, get ready to look all chunky and weird,” JJ promised before turning to Pope while he buttoned up his shirt. “Todays the day man. I’m getting that $200 tip,” 

“No, you’re not,” Pope said. He didn’t have to be anywhere for hours, he was already back in bed. 

“I bet you $200,” JJ said. “I’ve been working on this rich-guilt Boston lady? I haven’t told her jack about myself and she feels so fucking involved in my poor, young life. I’m gonna cash in, I bet you two hundred dollars. Tell Kie we’re gonna host a kegger, on Ms. Seven-Dollar-Toast.” 

Pope didn’t actually have to be awake, and was not very interested in coming to the hotel with JJ just to hang out for the drive, then walk three miles to work, so JJ left alone. The novelty of driving a car that was _his_ still hadn’t worn off, starting their car and heading north felt awesome, even at 6:50 AM. 

Their new car was a 1997 Nissan Pathfinder that was red and about thirty percent of the red was rust. JJ wanted a truck and Pope wanted an SUV so they settled on a piece of trash. It had shit mileage and the AC blew air that smelled like dead bodies, but the engine was in great shape and Kie figured out a way to connect their phones to the “cassette” player. Plus, it had an actual cigarette lighter in the front seat. You don’t get that kind of convenience in cars less than six years older than you. On the second day, they removed the left and middle backseat to optimize storage. It already smelled like the ocean, weed, and seaweed.

Heyward took him and Pope to the mainland to buy their as of yet unnamed car from his friend, Cecil. JJ had absolutely no idea he had a friend, and Heyward barely took the time to explain they’d met on a barge and he would take no questions. Seriously, no questions, stop it JJ.

“They gay?” JJ heard Cecil ask Heyward while they were still on the porch, and he and Pope were checking out the interior of the car. JJ checked if Pope noticed, but he was focused on collapsing the backseats. 

“Nah, man. Don’t even get along most of the time.” 

“I don’t know H, I never bought a car to share with a buddy.” 

JJ didn’t buy a car with a buddy either, he bought one with Pope. Sometimes they talked about telling their parents about the queerplatonic thing, but Pope kept coming back to, “We understand what it means, but they’re just going to hear that we like each other a lot and want to live together after high school. They’ll just congratulate themselves on raising us so well. If we even try to explain the triad, it’ll just be that you third wheel a lot which they already think is what’s happening.” 

Plus DCS acted like if he and Pope were anything more than bros they’d pull JJ out and stick him in a rape-and-murder group home. No ocean, no triad, no parents, no cushy hotel job with fat tips. No way he was risking that. 

Nathan switched JJ to waiting tables at brunch because he was a dick. Also because JJ barely got into it with a b-lister Kook--seriously, he didn’t even hit anyone. “Mornings are vacationers. No locals. You'll do better with out-of-towners. Be glad I’m not telling your mom,” Nathan said after explaining how saintly he was for not firing JJ who again, didn’t even _hit anyone._ Didn’t even _yell,_ just said “Good to see you” to Kelce and _he_ lost his mind, not JJ.

Typical.

Waking up fuck early in the morning sucked, but Nathan was right about one thing. It was mostly out-of-staters who loved his “accent” and wanted tips on what to do with their super fun days and had no idea he’d held a gun to the head of the heir of a prominent family. JJ would thank Nathan if he wasn’t an asshole. Most people saw him as a simple machine that brought food and that was fine by him. He hated them all. But sometimes, he saw obvious marks and went all in. 

He’d waited on this white family with four greedy brats five days in a row. They were from Boston and talked about _his_ accent like it was crazy that someone didn’t talk like their nose was broken. Anything the kids asked for they ordered. In theory, he knew how expensive the menu was before, but handing over $220 dollar checks for _breakfast_ never felt like he wasn’t running a major con on the stupidest people in the world. But they tipped great, and he had to do was smile and act like he cared about their vacation. Each day they gave higher tips, and JJ was positive he could get them to give him a higher tip than the bill before they left. 

He’d done it four times already. It was legal stealing, and the most adrenaline he could get at nine AM. 

They came in right when he started his shift, the brat kids yelling about some video game even as they got walked past tables of rich fucks and got sat down. Their dad wasn’t there, and the mom ignored it. Joya, the breakfast manager, came up and said, “That lady has a crush on you, asked to be seated in your section.” 

“MILFs love me,” he bragged. He switched to his work brain and walked over, smiling like he didn’t think about killing them a ton last night. “Hey, y’all. Listen, I told them to fire up the flat top so Mila and Eliza can get their mickey mouse pancakes as fast as possible.” 

Mila and Eliza didn’t notice, which was fine because their mom did and just about exploded with how special it all was. She was wearing a thick smelling perfume that didn't help his hangover a bit. “JJ it’s our last day here, can you believe it?” 

Of course he could, he’d known that for days and planned this whole thing. Even better was that her husband wasn’t around to accuse this poor child waiter of hitting on his wife, even if his fatass absence knocked a lot off the bill. “Oh no,” he said, “Man, I was hoping you’d make the jump and just live in this hotel forever. It’d make my life a lot more fun.” 

She fucking melted. “Anything else you think we should do? We loved the rock museum.” 

“Yeah, love the rock museum,” he said. Any self-respecting Pogue knew exactly what rich people did on vacation, because that’s where the jobs were. “I don’t know, the rock museum is about the best it gets. You should hit the beach one more time, that's the only thing better.” 

“I’d like to see some local places. What do you do when you’re not here?” she asked. 

_You could come to the kegger on the south side tonight, paid for by you! You can tell your book club you sponsored dozens of poor kids’ summer recreation._

“Honestly ma’am, I mostly go home and study. I’m trying to get into the University of North Carolina. I really wanna go to college. UNC’s expensive, so I’m working as much as I can.” 

“Oh gosh, that’s amazing,” she cooed. “Will you be a legacy?” JJ blinked and furrowed his brow. "Has your family been going to school there?" 

This bitch was giving him the tip of the century.

“Oh no ma’am, my--I’m gonna be the first to graduate high school. I just wanna break the cycle.” 

That went over _real well._ It was vital, because if she didn’t know he was a poor high school kid for sure, she did now. He brought them their pancakes and bagels and eight-dollar scrambled eggs. $196.44. That’s how much she just spent on eggs and bread, basically. Why did rich people think they had the right to control anything? When he dropped off the check, the mom obviously wanted to talk more, thank God. He could tell he hadn’t closed. 

“We’re really going to miss this southern food.” 

He smiled wide. “Yeah, I don’t wanna brag but we know what we’re doing.” 

“I just wish I’d had the chance to learn to cook some of it.” 

There was nothing at all southern about her dry toast and egg white spinach omelet, they hadn’t ordered anything remotely southern all week. Fuck it. She was so ignorant, he was going all in.

“You should go to Heyward’s Seafood, it’s down by Pelican Marina. They’ve got spice packs you won’t get anything like in Boston. My foster dad actually owns it, tell him I sent you, I could use the karma.” 

Confusion and pity crossed her face. Fucking _yes._

“Foster dad, is that like, is that like being adopted?” 

“Uh,” JJ made a show of looking over his shoulder like his manager had a specific rule about not talking about your white trash life. He debated drawing attention to the scar above his ear, but he didn’t need to go that far. “Kind of. They just take care of me because my dad....like technically isn’t allowed to? Sorry. I shouldn’t have--it’s not really a vacation topic. Sorry. Here’s the check, unless I can get you anything else?” 

She looked confused, but took the check. “Thank you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

JJ smiled, “No hey, I mean we’re friends, right? I really like you guys, I just don’t talk about this stuff. I’m focused on getting out, not looking back. Hey, maybe I’ll get into a college in Boston and see you later?”

“That would be great,” she said. 

If she did go to Heywards and mention his foster son who was serious and saving up for college, he’d laugh her out of the store, but JJ would have the money by then. He left the check and made himself scarce. When he came back the brat kids were gone and this bitch was standing by the table waiting. 

“Don’t get too cold in Boston,” JJ said, reaching around her to grab the check. He could feel it was holding cash. He fucking closed. “You need change?” 

“No. I hope you’re not here next year, I hope you’re at college. Good luck, JJ.” 

She stepped toward him. He stepped back. “Cool, have a good trip.” JJ waved and walked off with the check. 

When he was out of sight behind cash, he opened the check. He grinned and held back a giggle. There was a note, he pulled that out and dropped it in the trash, focused on the cash he could see fanned out behind it. He counted out five hundred-dollar bills, cashed it in, and walked away $305.56 richer.

Easy fucking money. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


JJ drove the car home and walked to the store. The stuck, thick heat in the car zapped every comfort from the air-conditioned hotel out of him, and by the time he got home his shirt was sticking to his back and arms. JJ pulled off his tie and button-up work shirt, leaving behind Pope’s Thrasher t-shirt he’d put on in the morning, and changed into a pair of board shorts from his pile of stuff in the backseat of the car. 

He grinned at the bottle of sunscreen Mom had forced on him sticking out from his pile. She’d bought him his own bottle because he could use the cheap stuff that showed up chalky because he was already chalky, or maybe because she knew he’d never use it, and the more expensive not-chalky shit they used (because even sunscreen was made racist) would be wasted on him. All it took was one good, painful burn for JJ to be immune for the rest of the summer, and that’d already happened. Pope and Kie had a ton of fun drawing smiley faces and arrows on his skin and watching their designs turn from white to red over and over. 

“Too bad JJ will die young of melanoma,” Mom said when she walked past that, lighting a cigarette on her way outside, “Nothing cool about tumors, sweetheart.”

JJ didn’t have tumors, definitely wouldn’t live long enough to have them. Right now all that mattered was he was $395.23 richer after his brunch shift, and that was enough for a keg four times over. On the walk to the store he texted Pope and Kie, his cousin who could get them a keg, and the Pogues he knew and could trust not to invite bogies and started tracking time until the triad could get on the water on the HMS Pogues. 

A lot of their stuff got misappropriated last year. Lots of good things happened and lots was fucked. 

John B’s house got turned into a crime scene, then Billy Bud, the asshole parasite that John B and his dad were renting from, put it up for rent the second he could, just fucking cleared it out. It was always baffling to JJ that someone _else_ owned that shack and they paid rent. Kind of evidence Big John wasn’t as with it as John B wanted to think, not that he would ever say that. It was no surprise that whoever rented it now just used it as storage. Nothing worth stealing, but of course, JJ had to check now and then. 

It was pure dumb luck that JJ, Pope, and Kie spent one eventful day stripping JJ’s house and John B’s house of important shit, and that happened to be four days before Billy Bud just cleared out two human being’s history. That’s when they thought John B was dead, and even after it still felt as painful as old bruises to think of the chateau being stolen from them. 

On that day they got John B’s guitar, and his stupid shirts, his notebooks with poems that only JJ knew about, and his surfboard. Most important was that they loaded that shit in Kie’s car, JJ drove it to her house while Pope and Kie brought the HMS Pogues to her family’s property where it stayed until they got it back in the water that spring. 

Getting JJ’s stuff was another story that was kind of worth going into now. He’d already been to his house when he was still in the group home. It was kind of hazy, a lot of the group home stuff was, because it was a long time ago, and maybe memories got broken up because his head was still fucked then. He remembered coming in the house with a social worker and a cop to get his stuff, and immediately recognizing the turned over drawers and emptied closet as familiar signs of a dealer settling debts. At least they hadn’t set the house on fire. 

“Is this normal?” the cop asked. 

JJ knew Dad was facing charges for drugs, and maybe for being a shitty father, and he couldn’t figure out a way to explain the house that didn’t add to either of those, so he didn’t answer. He took his clothes, but he left everything important behind until he got home. He knew he'd get home, even if he didn't know how right then 

When he rolled back a few weeks later with Pope and Kie, the house was clean, cleaner than it ever had been. Someone in his family must have come by and pulled it together. Or maybe to look for more valuable shit, took it, but neatly put it all away after because Luke and JJ were going through a hard time. Either way, the money he taped on the side of the floor grate in his room was still there, but his vape and weed weren’t and neither was his bike. 

His bike was one of those unaccountably big apology gifts from Dad, and JJ pointedly did not ask where it came from because he really fucking wanted it. If he was a chill person, when he realized it was gone he would say “easy come easy go” but JJ had come to learn that he was not actually a chill person and what he did after finding out his bike was gone was _not chill_ but that was like a year ago, definitely a different story. 

Almost a year later the story was that they'd rescued the HMS Pogues, JJ had a car that was good for a lot more than just getting away, and he had his new life down to a series of perfect equations. Show up at the store, be genuinely helpful for a little while, then abruptly start talking long, loud and fast until Heyward said, “Okay, okay, we’re fine, you boys get lost,” and they walked out to Kie already at the dock, because JJ’d guessed what time they’d get kicked out to the minute. 

Kie spotted them coming out of the store and started doing a crazy dance, waving her arms in the air and rocking the boat. Pope returned it, shimming all the way to the dock until he stepped into the boat and kissed her like they’d been separated for weeks. Kie kissed back until she wrinkled her nose and shoved him away. 

“I smell like grease, you smell like cleaning shrimp. The classic Pogues scents. Hold on,” she waited until JJ came into the boat and hugged him, unsubtly inhaling his shoulder. “Grease, cleaning shrimp, and rich people’s pheromones. Yep, the Poguey-ist of Pogue triads.” 

They rode out to the southern marshes, not too far off from where they found Scooter Grubbs boat but not the same place. The sun baked the metal of the boat, and they dropped anchor and jumped in the water. It didn’t matter if JJ’d woken up five minutes ago or eight hours ago, the moment his body hit the ocean was always the first moment of his day. They treaded the nearly still water and he was almost sure that Pope and Kie were starting their days too. 

“I have almost $400 in our car,” he told them. 

“What?” Kie cried. “JJ who did you rob, oh my god. Oh my god just when we’re having a nice week.” 

He splashed her and played at being offended. “Kiara Carrera, when would I _ever_ take anything that wasn't mine? I earned that money with my charisma and excellent serving skills.” 

She splashed him back, “My god, I can’t believe you’ve become so damn bougie.” 

“Take that back!” 

“No, I’m an expert. Will you invite us to your debutante ball John Jacob?” 

He pushed her underwater and dodged her nails coming at her face. She popped back up and spat water over her shoulder. “That wasn’t at all ladylike,” she said in a very serious voice. 

When they were younger they had a very competitive game of timing who could hold their breath underwater the longest. They used a stopwatch from the middle school that JJ stole during the beeper test, and they spent an entire summer with all four of them training up to see who could hold their breath the longest. John B won that summer, and he held onto that victory even when Pope started beating him most of the time. 

Pope always went the longest, was the last one to come in after surfing, stayed in the water even after Kie and JJ climbed into the boat, and compared their pruney palms. If the world fell to an apocalypse, JJ would complain a lot less but Pope would be the one to save them all. 

On the boat, Kie opened her cooler and handed him a beer. “I invited Opal to the boneyard tonight.” 

“Opal’s the nerdy one right?” JJ asked. 

“No, Opal is the one who takes school seriously and is trying to get out there more,” Kie corrected then paused, “Yes. Opal is the nerdy one.” 

“I love that you’re a corrupting influence,” JJ said. The side of the boat rocked as Pope grabbed it to pull up. JJ got up to help him over the side. “Honestly, you both were nerds when we met you, it’s just a matter of time.” 

Pope hadn’t heard the first part of the conversation but jumped right in, “Uh, not having felonies at the age of twelve didn’t make us nerds.” 

There was a stop time to how long they could stay out, because they had the responsibility of starting a party before the sun went down. Sometimes they had less vital responsibilities like getting Pope back to the island for his Kildare Youth Council meetings, but they treated each as equally important. They sat on the water until time ran out, drinking and talking. Kie had picked up an interest in drawing again, something she took and left a couple times a year. She drew a sun on the inside of JJ’s arm, and it dimly occurred to him that the black sharpie would show up through his uniform but that didn’t matter. When she finished she drew a triskele on Pope’s chest. 

“Do you want to be a tattoo artist?” Pope asked her. 

“No,” Kie said, “I just want to do this.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They started fighting about who got to shower first well before they got home, only to arrive and find Heyward singing like nobody's business in the bathroom. Pope went outside to piss and came back in looking disappointed all over again, like he didn't know full well Heyward was only halfway through his favorite shower song rotation. 

“Kooks all have their own bathrooms,” JJ said, “That’s why you gotta get rich for us Pope,”

“We’ll have three bathrooms,” Kie decided, collapsing at the kitchen table. She didn’t take part in a lot of the fantasy future, it was like she thought that if she just talked about being in their field of vision further than three weeks in the future they’d tie her down and never let her leave. He and Pope didn’t really know what to do about that except not make a bit deal when she said things like, “No. Four bathrooms, three on the second floor for each of us, and one downstairs. Wait, no. Three, because what if we all have to take a shit at the same time?” 

“JJ’s gonna cook a lot?” Pope joked. 

Heyward wasn’t real excited about coming out with a towel to three teenagers, but he was the one who bought a house with the only bathroom in the middle of the kitchen, not them. While JJ was scrolling through insta with Kie, Mom came home. 

“Hey Mom,” he said. 

“Hello, hello. Where’s the other one?” 

“Shower.” 

Calling her “Mom” was still new, and even though she seemed happy about it every time, JJ was still waiting for her to snap “I’m Ms. Heyward to you,” and give up on the whole thing. She didn’t though. She opened the fridge, closed it, then opened it again. “I need one of you to get groceries no later than tomorrow,” she said. 

“Pope will do it,” JJ decided. 

“I bet he will. Did you tell Nathan you need to change your schedule for next week?” She pulled a glass container of rice out of the fridge and some other container of leftovers and started working putting them together. 

“No?” 

Mom glanced over her shoulder at Kie and gestured vaguely. “You have to be on the mainland on Tuesday morning.” 

“Oh, for the highlight of my summer, seeing a therapist? Yeah, I got off work.”

JJ already knew that DCS didn’t like it when your dad bashed your head in, and he couldn’t really blame them, that obviously sucked but it meant he got his new family so, fine. But it turned out your dad showing up at your kind of uncle's house in the middle of the night after scaring everyone and being a goddamn asshole was just _over the line_. Any play-acting like Dad and JJ were going to turn into a freaking Lifetime movie was permanently canceled.

If you asked DCS, now it was just a matter of running out the clock until JJ turned eighteen and ideally wasn’t beaten to death. If you asked his family, it was a matter of beating the clock and JJ officially being adopted. He liked that one a lot better. 

Both were needlessly complicated. 

His caseworker Corrine came to their house twice in two weeks. She brought her bright blue binder with daisies drawn on it, like making life and death decisions about his life was just a day in sixth grade. “Luke is legally your father,” she explained, “but no judge would ever send you back. The only real issue is your foster parents need to consult him for things like your education, your medical treatment, even when you get your haircut until you age out.” 

JJ looked at his parents incredulously. “What? Were you calling my dad in prison every time I got my hair cut?” 

They did not look like they thought it was funny. Mom said, “Honestly--take us to court if you need to Corrine--but no, not hair cuts. We tried to talk to him when he got out because we’ve got nothing about your medical history, he got out right before an appointment with your neurologist.” 

“Seriously? You had to consult my dad about me seeing the brain doctor? That’s _messed up._ I’m only seeing one because of what he did.” 

Corrine looked uncomfortable. She always looked uncomfortable. “You really do need to be giving Luke the chance to consult about JJ’s medical care.” 

“He’s the _reason_ I need medical care,” JJ snapped. “I can’t even be in a room with him and he gets to decide how to fix what he did? Why do you people make this so complicated?” 

“Easy,” Heyward said, putting a warning hand on his shoulder. JJ fought not to shove it off. 

Corrine nodded, like she wasn’t the one making it complicated. “There’s nothing that can change that except terminating his rights, and I really don’t know a lot about that, but it takes years. JJ’s going to age out in less than a year.” 

“What does that mean?” Heyward asked. “You said we need to do that first before we adopt JJ.” 

“If Luke doesn’t voluntarily surrender his rights,” Corrine paused, “this really isn’t what I do. JJ has a lawyer, she can help more but I _think_ that unless Luke cooperates, it’s not likely it’ll happen by the time JJ turns eighteen. That’s not to mention they couldn’t find his mom, she hasn’t lost any rights. If we started when he was younger it’d be different, but--”

JJ faded out after that. 

He was supposed to have killed his dad. 

JJ knew that. 

He had a gun. He had a wrench. He could have let him choke on his own vomit, or suffocated him when he was too down and weak to fight. JJ was supposed to be in juvie, or maybe getting the needle. _He_ was supposed to be the one on the run, in the Yucatan living off lobsters he caught with his bare hands, not John B and definitely not _Sarah_. He wasn’t supposed to be sitting at a kitchen table surrounded by adults, shutting down every part of his brain that knew how to cry, choking on DCS legalese that amounted to being shackled to his dad, and his real family not being able to adopt him, even if they fucking wanted to. 

And they wanted to. 

“You suck,” JJ told Corrine, coming back into reality while she was in the middle of a sentence. He cut her off. “You all suck. This whole rig is fucked. I don’t even fucking remember telling you shit. I was eight years old when I started outsmarting you, and I sure as shit am not better off for your getting in my business. You’re idiots.” 

His parents just about tore his head off for talking that way, and Corrine got all stressed out and came back with the really fucking helpful follow up that DCS wanted to get _more_ up his ass and force him to see a therapist. Because of all the _stress_ and _trauma._ His parents said they’d make that happen, like it was them it'd happen to, not JJ. He wanted to set everything on fire. 

After Corrine left, Heyward turned right at him and started yelling, “You think you’re grown now?”

“Yeah I do,” JJ yelled back, “ain’t that the problem? I’m too grown to get adopted, why we even pretending I’m still a kid?” 

It was a real fun night. Sometimes JJ didn't explode, even when he thought he would. Sometimes some deep old pain came to shore, and it hurt as much as headaches and bruises and hunger. The whole night ebbed and flowed between fighting with Heyward and sitting on the stairs crying with Pope’s arm around him, and Mom sitting nearby on a chair pulled up from the kitchen. 

“It's not fair,” he cut out between stifling sobs, “I don’t want to be stuck to him. I want to cut it off. I want to be yours and they won’t let us.” 

In the morning Mom found him while he was waiting for his waffle to toast and he couldn't exactly walk away. He was embarrassed and definitely some kind of grounded but she didn’t look like she was mad. "You're going to the therapy.” 

JJ knew he was still in hot water, but everything that happened yesterday still stung too much not to be real about it. “No, I’m not. I’m not playing along with DCS anymore.” 

“Yes you are,” she said, “we are going to cooperate with everything DCS wants us to do. I am going to call your father every single time you get a haircut or stub your toe, and I am going to tell them that he doesn’t answer a single call. If DCS drags their feet finding your mom, we’ll do it. You are going to see a therapist and you are going to tell them how much we love you, how good you’re doing in school, and that you have all the PTSD things, and when we get to a courtroom he will tell them that you belong here. We _are_ going to adopt you, and you don’t get to blow up our chances to do it. You don’t get to stop me from making you my son.” 

And Jesus Christ, who was he to stop her from doing that? 

So he was on track to be the first Maybank in history to see a therapist for any reason except for a bogus insanity plea. He knew his parents and maybe Corrine was looking for one, but he lost track that it was happening so soon.

“Who’s the therapist?” he asked. 

Mom sat down next to Kie with her dish. "George Wilcox. He specializes in treating trauma with play...something.” 

“Play? Sounds molestery.”

“Oh stop. He takes Medicaid and he isn’t two hours off the coast. It’ll be fine. There are forms, do you want my help with them? Dad and I already sent some, you have to do the rest. I emailed them to you.” 

JJ glanced at Kie and she nodded. She’d help if he needed it. “Nah. Don’t you know I read as well as a ten-year-old now?” 

“Yes, I do. And you’re as responsible as one, so I’m not even going to make sure you go, I’m just going to trust you ” Mom said. 

JJ kind of preferred that she wouldn’t trust that, and she’d just come with to make sure he walked through the door and was there waiting until he got out. He noticed the amount their parents trusted them was directly proportional to how busy they were. This summer Mom was working crazy hours managing housekeeping at the hotel, and now she was involved in the front desk somehow too. Heyward was gone just about every hour, working the store, deliveries, and definitely some shady stuff. The result: JJ and Pope got trusted to be upstanding citizens and when Mom said, “You going to keep curfew?” JJ said “Of course we are,” she didn’t ask anything else before going outside to smoke then probably go back to work. 

Heyward noticed them heading out at the same time he was and asked, “Where will the police call us from tonight?” and JJ said “Nowhere,” and Pope said, “Boneyard,” and Heyward said, “Uh-huh” because he didn’t have the energy or time for a lecture. 

It was awesome. 

Pope drove further south to pick up the keg from JJ’s cousin Matt, who crawled with it into the open trunk space to come along. As they were pulling away, Matt’s sister Lizzie ran out of the house and climbed in back too. Like some sonar radar got sent out over the Cut, their phones started blowing up with other Pogues needing rides and the as of yet unnamed car filled up with Pogues sitting on the floor, and buzzing about a second party at the boneyard in two days. 

Kooks didn’t come to their parties anymore. It was fucked up that they had in the first place. Like honestly, maybe he tipped off a chain of events that wasn't great, but JJ and his gun had done one thing right. The party unwound quickly between friends and people who felt like family just by virtue of finding their way to the beach that night. 

JJ got high first and fast, but it wore off long before the party did. He found Kie and Pope holding hands and talking, sitting where the water hit the shore. He sat down and kissed Kie on the cheek before crashing back on the sand. He pulled his boots off and let the water come over his bare feet. 

“I think this is going to go all night,” Pope said. He looked back over his shoulder at where a smaller, but still breathing crowd was settled over branches and around the bonfire. 

“We’re providing so well for our community,” Kie said, “you guys wanna break light here?” 

JJ had work in the morning, but the Tourons didn’t have to get the best, well-rested version of him. They could get the version of him that stayed up until first light with his best people, showing up with sand still in his hair and the ocean still on his skin. That was the actual best version of him. 

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah let’s stay here as long as we can.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story title from "Jenny" by the Mountain Goats. It's long and perfect. Chapter title is from New Britain also by them
> 
> I'm super excited about this fic, the kids can get up to a lot more without school eating up their hours to be together, and there are new challenges and things going on.
> 
> As always I live on comments! They are the best motivation and reward I could ask for, so if you're inclined please comment! <3


	2. Hey don't touch the door, because the door will surely kill you

Surviving the Outer Banks in the summer was a matter of getting yourself in water or air conditioning often enough for your brain not to fry. You had to know your spots from the convenience store to the west hallway in City Hall to your favorite person’s house. 

JJ drove straight to Kie’s house after a brunch shift and parked down the block. Pope had Kildare County Youth Council and it was too hot to even walk to the HMS Pogues in the height of the day, not when Kiara was home and her parents weren’t. JJ texted Kie and got the go-ahead to drive up closer to her house and ring the bell. 

She answered the door right away, expecting him. She wrinkled her nose and laughed at his uniform, grabbing his bow tie and pulling it apart. “I’m making quesadillas, then we have to watch this old movie about roller derby because I decided it’s my future.” 

Kie’s house wasn’t the most ridiculous Kook house JJ’d been in by any stretch, but it still felt like another planet. The pantry in her kitchen was an entire room you could walk into, and he walked out with chips and hot sauce and canned chicken for their quesadillas. He held the can up, “What the hell?” 

She took it and added it to their ingredients. “It’s my dad. He calls it a ‘working-class holdover.’”

“I don’t want to eat anything that had a face then ended up in a can.” 

“Agreed. It’s just cruel. It’s one thing to raise a living, sentient, caring animals with thoughts and love purely to be slaughtered, it’s another to can their remains.” She handed it back to him. JJ went back in the pantry and spent two seconds killing the impulse to fill his pockets before putting the can back. Then retroactively surrendered that fight and stuffed those good coconut-and-chocolate granola bars in just one, single pocket. 

Their quesadillas were cruelty-free, with dairy-free cheese, local tortillas, vegan bacon bits, and chips. Kie left a mess and led the way to the TV room with the reclining chairs and giants projector screen. 

“Remind me to thank your parents for getting rich,” JJ said. 

“Hey, fuck you,” Kie said. She reclined and balanced her plate on her stomach while she pulled up her movie. 

“Do your parents know I’m here?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Have they gotten over you queerplatonically dating a 'god-damn mother fucking Maybank?'” 

“Nope. They just decided to try to stop alienating me. I think they got it from other rich parents. It means they ‘accept’ me now.” 

Kie’s parents were the only ones who knew the full deal, and that so fucking was not the plan. Actually, their only plan was to get away from the Carrera’s Christmas party. They all got invited, and Pope had to explain twice to their dad that they weren’t getting paid to be there and actually had to socialize with Kooks which meant they were losing money and torturing themselves, but everyone got dressed up anyway and showed up. 

Kie explained that her parents only really made friends with the other new rich people, and some of the other rich people of color which eliminated some--but not all--of the truly fucked up fucking fucks of kooks. The night was still tense, with each of them at some point being mistaken for the help at least twice, and a lot of awkward conversations. Whenever JJ saw one of Kie’s parents across the room JJ could practically see the smoke coming out of their ears while their brains fried on all the adjacent poverty. 

He didn’t say shit to Kie. They teased her a lot for being rich, but it was obvious she was trying to hold it together until she walked up to Pope trying to explain basic tides to Mr. Tillmark and JJ trying not to kill anyone and said, “Hey, I need your help in the other room real quick?” and they fucked right off to her bedroom upstairs. 

The second the door closed Kie held out her hand. “You have it, give it.” JJ handed over his loaded vape, bought fresh off the good cousin with the weed card. She inhaled deeply and held it in, her eyes squeezed shut, before letting out. “Oh my god, fuck why did we think this was a good idea?” 

“It’s okay,” Pope said, “It was a good idea, we have to get to know your life too, right?” 

“It was a terrible idea,” JJ said. 

Kie took another hit then passed it over. “God, I fucking hate them for getting rich sometimes, okay? Don’t you dare say a thing about your sad poor lives, just listen to me. Fuck, they stuck me on this little Hunger Games prequel of an island, already mixed, already way too liberal, and then act _shocked_ when I don’t wanna mix it up with Kookland.” She took the vape back and crawled onto her bed with it. “C’mon. Be nice to me. Fuck. Did they even talk to you guys?” 

“We haven’t really made ourselves available,” Pope said, crawling onto the bed to lie next to her. 

“Nope,” JJ said, jumping on the other side, “which sucks, because I so badly wanted to talk to your mom about the latest Spring styles.” 

“Shut up.” Kie scooted against her headboard and made grabby hands and they obliged. Pope pulled her so close that she just shifted onto his lap, and JJ came up close, on arm around her and his head on Pope’s shoulder. “I think this set up is new. We should add it to a log.” 

“You say that like I don’t already have a log,” Pope joked. 

That joke went right the fuck out the window though when Kie’d bedroom door opened and they raced to untangle themselves. 

“Kiara what the hell we’ve--” her dad stopped short. “What the _hell?”_

They were on opposite sides of the room but they’d been seen. “Dad, listen.” 

JJ’s dad and Pope’s dad were different kinds of scary, but Mike Carrera was a whole fucking other brand. The kind that might take out a knife and kill you slowly. “You get out of my house. Take your parents with you.” 

Kie wasn’t afraid of him. Not even a little. “Nice hosting skills Dad. These are my friends.” 

“They hell they are, they only want one thing from you. Get out.” 

“They already have that thing!” 

Oh Jesus Christ, so this was how they’d die? JJ didn’t even want _one thing_ from her, and now he was going to get shot to death. Pope was closer to the door but he was frozen, because he was a goddamn freezer but JJ wasn’t. He tried to get to Pope but Kie stepped in the way, coming closer to her dad. What the hell, she wanted to die too?

“You know Pope’s my boyfriend,” she said. “You can’t seriously think we were just holding hands? Mom gave me condoms.” 

Mike pointed at them one at a time. “I’m gonna kill you. And I’m gonna kill you.” 

That was enough for JJ, he broke past Kie and grabbed Pope. “Kie, c’mon,” he yelled. 

“In a minute!” she yelled back. “I have sex with Pope as often as I want to. JJ isn’t having sex with me. He doesn’t even want to. He’s just part of it.” 

Holy _shit_ what the fuck kind of relationship did Kie have with her dad? JJ didn’t wait to find out. If she wasn’t afraid she didn’t have a reason to be, they were the only ones getting threatened with death here. He dragged Pope out of the house, then risked being the one to find their parents and tell them, “Uh, so we gotta go,” and get yelled at the whole way home for surely being the one who made them look bad in front of all those nice people with catering needs. 

Kie texted them two seconds after they pulled away. _i’m fine he’s done it’s fine. I explained our situation._

Pope sat next to him in the car and texted _Why would you ever do that?_

_it’s better than a threeway????????_

The last fucking person JJ wanted knowing he was asexual and in a triad was _Mike Carrera_. That actually wasn’t true, but he was pretty damn high on that list. Then Miss Anna knew too and basically Kie was full-on forbidden from anything out with them. 

Pope called it the Polyamorous Poverty Problem. Kie called it evidence her parents were the scum of the earth. 

The first time she said that, she backtracked, “I know JJ’s parents are like, criminally bad but--”

“No no,” he interrupted, “You totally have my permission. Hate them all you want, we’ll help.” 

But he knew better than anyone that hating bad parents wasn’t easy, and the closer they got to the summer Kie started introducing the idea that maybe her parents weren’t totally awful, and they said she could start having them over, and it was pretty strongly correlated to that time she slept over every night for a week. It was also correlated with the entire Cut getting intolerably hot, and JJ was willing to risk getting killed by Kie’s dad in order to cool off in her sick house every once in a while. 

They watched Kie’s documentary about roller derby and he pretty quickly agreed that it was Kie’s future if she wanted it to be. Almost everything was her future if she wanted it to be, Kie tried volleyball and dancing and drawing and was good at everything, but she didn’t even care, didn’t even pin anything on it. She could totally break other girls' noses on roller skates. 

When the movie finished she reached over and hit him in the arm. “Hey, did you do your therapy forms already?” 

“Ugh, Kie.” 

“So no? Dude, that in like two days. C’mon, do it now.” 

JJ hadn’t actually looked at the therapy forms, but Kie got all excited about doing it so he went along with it. She ran out of the room and came back with her laptop, which admittedly would be a lot easier than doing it on his phone. Now that they had their car, they were saving up for a laptop for Pope to bring to college, but the school took their Chromebooks back, the greedy assholes. He took it and logged into his email. 

The form was basic as shit. He knew how to type out his name as easy as anything, and gave answers exactly as long as he needed to. It wasn’t like he was seeing a doctor. If this therapist dude wanted to know more than _tall, no, mom made me_ in answer to _What do you like about yourself_ , _Are you concerned about your substance use_ , and _Why are you seeking counseling_ , then he’d ask. 

He closed Kie’s laptop and walked off with it. She followed him. “You did it? That was it?” 

“Yep. Can we go surf now, please? I can feel myself climbing the social ladder in this beautiful house of yours, c’mon let's go.” 

She held her hands up like she gave up and took her laptop and stuck in on a side table as he led her toward the front door. She picked up her bag out of the kitchen and grabbed her shoes. “Did you actually fill it out though?” 

“Uh huh, I just can’t wait for Tuesday, Kie. C’mon, let's go pick Pope up from youth council, and we can hear about his parade permit, then we can talk about me seeing a therapist! Fuckin’ Pogue life as _hell.”_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Mom and Heyward both ended up at home on Sunday night and caught them coming down the stairs on their way to Yaya's house. 

"You're grounded," Heyward said, not looking up from the book he read at the kitchen table. 

"What? Why?" Pope asked. 

"I know you both done plenty of out of bounds shit while we weren't looking. So you're grounded for that, until tomorrow morning."

"You just miss us," JJ reasoned, already drifting over to the table and handing his phone to Pope to text Yaya they were out. Kie wasn't even going to be there, she was hanging out with her non-cosmic friends. They were just going to Yaya’s because that's where people were going, shit always went bad at her house. "Don't you think it'd be so much healthier to admit that?"

"We do miss you," Mom said, coming over to the table with the Blokus game box under one arm and a bowl of chips in the other hand. "And we know you been running around wilding and that time with family is the antidote."

"You're grounded," Heyward clarified.

They played Blokus a lot over the winter. It was a game with plastic shaped pieces that you used to take over a gameboard and it worked okay with three people but it worked best with four. And it was fun because they were all equally good at it so it got damn fierce. 

On their second game, JJ casually said, "Have y'all changed your mind about making me do therapy?"

"No," the parents said at the exact same time. 

"It ain't fair, it's not like any of you've ever been forced to go."

“Sure we have,” Mom said, “Ezekiel and I saw a therapist after our mama died, and Pope did when he was little too.” 

“Pope did _what_?” Pope exclaimed. “I never saw a therapist.”

“Do you remember playing games with an old woman and us getting hot chocolate after?”

“Yes?”

“She was a psychologist. We were worried because you didn’t have friends. But you made some!”

“Mom!” 

JJ kicked Pope under the table. “Ha! You were a problem child way before I was.”

Pope kicked him back hard and looked between his parents with major betrayal. “Wait, you said she was a family friend. It was at her house. You said she was watching me while you ran errands!” 

Mom wiggled her hand like _more or less_. “She was an old friend of Grandpa’s, but she was playing games to help you get better at taking turns and talking. It worked! Look, you made wonderful friends.” 

Heyward snorted. “I thought it was a terrible idea. You’d’ve figured it out fine.” Mom smacked him in the shoulder. "I mean, your mother was right. You should always listen to her."

“So do I get out of therapy?” JJ asked. 

“No, you ain’t figuring it out fine.” 

“I have better friends than Pope does.” 

Pope waved his hands. “Why didn’t anyone tell me I was going to therapy?” 

Mom took one of his waving hands and brought it down to the table. “You were so honest with other kids, we were worried you’d tell them you were in therapy and have an even harder time making friends because they thought you were crazy.” 

Pope looked at JJ with easily understood _Our parents are insane_ eyes. “If JJ was young enough to trick would you lie to him?” 

Mom said, “Yes,” at the same time as Heyward said, “He ain’t too old to trick.” 

JJ felt like enough of this conversation had gone by without getting to the point. “So it's games? Is that what’s going to happen? I don’t want to lie down.” 

“What?” Mom asked. 

“In movies they’re always lying down. I don’t want to do that.” 

“That’s a whole different type of therapy. Do you want to look at George Wilcox’s website?” 

“No.” 

Mom took out her phone. “I’m going to read it for my benefit. ‘George Wilcox encourages children and adolescents to process past and current experiences through expressive therapies including play, talk, and art therapy.'"

“Oh my god, why would you send me to Mr. Rogers? This dude probably expects me to point on a doll where I got bad-touched.” 

Mom handed him her phone, but he didn’t take it. He could already see the text was white on black and tiny. She took it back. "He works with kids, he specializes in trauma. He takes Medicaid. This close to the coast, we'd have a better chance finding Santa Clause than someone else this good. He’s just going to ask you questions, and it’s important that you tell the truth. Nothing you can say is going to get us in trouble.” 

They’d had this conversation before. He still didn’t want to make s'mores with Corrine or anything, but he was willing to talk to her about school and tell her what he wanted, which was pretty different from at the beginning when he lied to her about allergies out of habit. It was damn near impossible to change from lying to DCS, teachers, everyone about most of his life to suddenly telling the truth, and having _that_ be the better thing to do. The truth felt like lying sometimes.

“What if he asks if I smoke weed?” he asked. 

“You don’t, ain’t that what you tell us?” Heyward said. 

That was a complete answer. Tell the truth about things you’ve already told the truth about, keep secrets still secret. It wasn’t like any current secrets had anything to do with this shit. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


On Tuesday morning Pope drove JJ to the ferry. As he bought a ticket he realized he’d never gone to the mainland alone. Not that it wasn’t the easiest thing to do in the world, it’d just never happened. The ferry landed at the most touristy piece of shit part of North Carolina, even the most bullshit corners of Kildare didn’t look like pictures of Disney World. If the therapist's office was on Kildare he could find it blindfolded, but he had to keep checking Google Maps until he ended up walking past four landscapers working on a tiny plot of grass in front of a one-story office building. It led right into a thankfully cool waiting room with a woman sitting behind bulletproof glass with a little speaker thing like at the welfare office. 

JJ looked over his shoulder as he walked up to her. The people waiting didn’t look like the welfare office though, there was a skinny woman in fancy leggings and a sweaty faced dude in a nice suit. 

Shit, he was in the wrong place. 

“Can I help you?” the receptionist said loudly, like she was trying to shout from where he was stopped three feet from the desk. 

He walked up. “John Maybank?” 

“For George Wilcox?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Looks like you sent all your paperwork. Do you have your insurance card?” 

No, he barely had five bucks on him. “I don't know." He felt overly aware that he was wearing a red shirt he’d cut the sleeves and side off of, and her gaze settling on peeling sunburn on his shoulders. He always looked poor as shit, but it felt deeply obvious in front of this receptionist lady with her pearl earrings. Why the hell was he in some fancy therapy office?

“Are you with DCS?” 

“Yeah.” She had his number figured out and it was fucking zero. 

“Tell your caseworker she needs to fax us. She should know what to send. Do you have your grown-up with you?”

_Grown-up?_

“No. Is this where his office is?” 

“Yes, take a seat, George will be out in a few minutes.” 

And George was. While JJ waited he logged more evidence that he was in the fucking Twilight zone. A tiny water fountain on the table next to him that wasn’t nailed down. A corner with kids toys that weren’t broke to shit. And George Wilcox did come out in a few minutes, right on time which was way too early for JJ to justify bailing. 

“Hey, are you JJ?” he asked. JJ nodded. “Come on back.” 

He was white and he was old. Like, Heyward old. Short grey hair, glasses, expensive sneakers that he was too old for, button-up shirt but no belt and no tie. Two inches shorter than JJ, he stood outside his open office door and waited for him to go in first. 

JJ was immediately reminded of Mom saying that “play” was part of his schtick, because between an armchair and a grey couch was a carpet with roads and houses on it. There was a fucking sandbox on a table, and a dollhouse in one corner. JJ stepped in and looked around. He waited for George to sit down but he didn’t. 

The bookshelf across from the couch had green shades affixed to the top that were pulled down, covering the shelves. It set JJ’s teeth on edge. 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

George pointed to the shelves. “That’s a bookshelf, I keep some toys that some of my clients use on it.” He had a smokers voice, like seven packs a day smokers voice. “Go ahead and check it out.” 

“Why is it covered?” 

“Some of the older clients find it distracting, and just to make the place look neater.” 

“I’m old as hell for you, aren’t I?”

“Most of them are younger, you got me there. Go ahead and check it out.” 

JJ didn’t want to seem like he wanted to play with toys, but he also knew he’d be distracted as shit if he didn’t check it out. He lifted the side of one shade and logged shelves with a ridiculous number of dolls, cars, and other toy shit stuff. He stepped over and lifted the other shade, checked the rest of the shelf. Nothing worth looking twice at. 

“Do you want to lift the shade?” 

“No.” The window overlooked the street, and it was high up enough that it’d take a second to climb out of it. “What now?” 

“Now we sit down. The couch is for you, the chair’s for me."

They stood across the room from each other. JJ wanted to be done already. Mom said it would be fifty minutes, that had to be ten already. “What if we agree to sit down at the same time?” George asked. JJ rolled his eyes and pointedly sat down on the couch. George did too. “Did you find the office okay?” 

“I live on Kildare.” 

“So you took the ferry.” JJ shrugged. “Did anyone come with you?” 

“I’m seventeen. Everyone’s at work.” 

“How are you feeling about being here?” He shrugged again. “So I’m going to tell you some about me, and then you can tell me some about you. That’s what we’re going to do next.” 

His name was George Wilcox. He was from something, South Carolina. He went to school at bla bla bla and was a bla bla bla and specialized in bla bla bla bla and had worked with a lot of kids in situations like his and he wanted JJ to know he could touch and play with anything in the room if he wanted to but they could also just talk and that everything was secret except if someone was getting hurt or something and JJ tried really fucking hard to focus. 

“It sounds like there’s a possibility your DCS case will go to family court, if that happens I might be subpoenaed, but it's really not likely. You're considered old enough to testify on what I'd normally be asked about." 

“Okay.” 

George looked him over, like he expected more questions. “You prefer JJ right?” He nodded. Jesus fuck how was it he was capable fo talking with a gun in his face and couldn’t now? “Does anyone call you John?” 

John B used to call him John to spin him up, and JJ would call him just John right back until they were a furious mutual not-John society.

“My name’s not John, it’s John Jacob. It’s both.” 

Okay, he could do this. He was fucking weirded out by how hard it was to talk, but this was the kind of talking he could do hanging upside down. 

“Everyone in my family has names from the bible. All the guys have apostle names, except my dad. He was real sensitive about it, so he gave me my name because John was the apostle Jesus loved most, and Jacob was really important too, and I’m the only one with two names. It’s a revenge name.” 

“Is anyone in your family named Jesus?” 

He grinned. “Yeah, my Aunt Mimi married this dude who had this grown son who lived in Indiana named Jesus, and some of my uncles found out and gave my dad so much shit. We never even met him, and my uncles just get on my dad’s case about it every time they come over.” 

_What’d your dad do about that?_ was the question JJ expected, but before he could come up with something--but wait, shit was he supposed to tell the truth about what actually happened?--George asked, “Do you practice Christianity as well?” 

“Oh. No. They aren’t actually like, bible loving Christians, it’s just a family thing.” 

“I really want to know about you though,” George admitted. 

“I only know about the names. I go to church with my mom sometimes. She doesn’t make me come that often.” 

George had a notepad balanced on his lap this whole time, and he started writing. JJ watched him. “There's not much to them now, but you can read my notes any time. I can even type them up for you,” George offered. 

JJ sat back and pretended he hadn’t even noticed anything. “Did DCS tell you a lot about me?” 

“No, I haven’t talked to DCS about you. I talked to your foster mom on the phone, and they sent me forms with most of the same questions you answered. They told me a lot more than you did, I can share what they sent with you if you wanna know what I know.” 

“I’m fine. I don’t actually care.” 

“Okay, just know it’s an option. Parents can get things wrong, if you want to look right now we can do that, and you can tell me anything else they got wrong.” 

JJ wanted to punch this asshole in the face. “They know me real well, they didn’t get anything wrong.” 

“Can you tell me about your relationship with them?” 

JJ knew he had to tell the truth, that if he told this dude how much he liked his parents and his life now if George went to court he’d say that. There wasn’t even anything to lie about. He just didn’t want to say shit to this guy. 

He must have not answered for a long time because George followed up, “What do you call them?” 

“They didn’t say that?” 

“They actually didn’t put their first names on the intake form.” 

“Yeah, I don’t call them their first names. No one does. I call my mom ‘Mom’ and I call Heyward ‘Heyward.’”

_But you don’t call Heyward “Dad”?_ JJ anticipated. Prepared for. But George didn’t go there. “What kind of things do you do with your mom?” 

“Uh, we used to work the same shift at the hotel. So she’d drive me home. And she taught me how to make stuff, food stuff. I didn’t really know shit about that when I got there.” 

“How to cook?” 

“Yeah. Like, with my dad I basically just ate at school and found shit other times. We didn't really have anything. I didn’t know about things like preheating or expiration dates or anything. She taught me all that stuff, she didn’t make fun of me or anything.” 

What the fuck. That was so much fucking unnecessary information to share. JJ’s face got hot. God fucking damn it. He was JJ Deny Maybank and he just vomited all that for no reason. Pull it the fuck together.

"I knew how to make mac and cheese,” he offered. He wasn’t a total idiot.

_What sixteen-year-old doesn’t know how to cook? How helpless and stupid were you?_

"That must have been hard, having to find food in order to eat."

Fuck. "I didn't die."

"Kids aren't supposed to have to search out food."

JJ looked at the ceiling then back at George. "What, are you going to mandated report me now?"

George raised his eyebrows. "No, I'm not. If you tell me your foster parents are neglecting you I will, but unless you name an unknown abuse or abuser, the chips are already on the table." 

"Which chips?"

"I know that both your biological parents used drugs. I know that your father was physically and emotionally abusive and neglectful in every legal, reportable way. So that’s done, reported. Anyone else, like your neighbor or bio mom for example, I won't report unless there's a current or future risk to you or another kid. It won't be anything I haven't heard before."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure."

JJ didn't actually want to try to win that bet. 

“I make mac and cheese with my mom too. A different kind.” 

“Cheese doesn’t come in a silver packet?”

"Yeah. It gets baked too. It's fucking good."

"I like homemade better too. Do you use breadcrumbs?"

"Yeah, when we have it."

"What do you do with Heyward?"

JJ crossed his arm over his chest to scratch the back of his neck. "We watch TV. Are you gonna tell DCS I should stay with them? You keep saying you ain’t gonna snitch, but you need to snitch about that."

"Did your caseworker say something about not staying with them?"

"No. She--I was talking to my dad and now I'm not because he went apeshit. And he told me he was done with me. But that doesn't even matter, my parents still can't adopt me. Corrine said I had to see a therapist, so you can tell the court that my parents are good for me. 

George wrote and shook his head at the same time. "I think some wires got crossed. It's remotely possible that I'll be called to testify to what I think is best for you, but that's not the reason we're here."

"Wait, then what are we doing here?"

"We're talking. You've had a hard life, and probably haven't talked about most of it."

JJ stood up and George immediately did too. "No. Fuck. I'm not doing this. Why do people keep _lying_ to me?" 

"Who lied to you?”

"You’re supposed to help me get adopted. I ain't jonesing to talk about my fucking feelings. God damn it. So we're done, right?'

"Hey, I get it. Listen, just being here will help your case. If DCS told your parents you needed to see someone, just showing up and trying a little will help. It makes them look like good parents."

JJ rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Fuck. I’m so sick of this shit. Everything’s fucking fake and stupid.” 

“It’s bullshit, right? This is easy to fake, JJ. I bet you’ve been tricking DCS for a long time. Just sit down, run out the clock.”

JJ realized he was still holding onto the back of his neck, his arm over his chest. "I'm not gonna talk about my dad."

"That's fine. Hey, your parents told me you have a snake, I haven’t even got to ask you about them."

JJ checked the clock. There were twenty minutes left. He could kill twenty minutes. "You wanna see a picture?"

"Yeah, I do. Let's sit down, why don't you take out your phone?" 

That was fucking easy. JJ was somewhere between floaty brain high and feeling every axon and it was fucking weird. But at least he'd still managed to get this dude under his control. No more talking about parents, no more accidentally revealing he was an idiot. He filled George in quickly about how he got Dr. Felonious Rex, and how Pope was still kind of afraid of her but tried not to be. He took out his phone and showed off pictures of Dr. Felonious Rex coiled up in a ball, eating a mouse, and Kie's face screwed up while she crawled over her shoulders. 

_Who's that? She's Pope's girlfriend? So you're just extra, third-wheeling?_

"Who's that in the picture?"

"That's our friend Kiara. She's great. She drew this," he held up his arm to show the sun she'd drawn the week before, then touched up almost every day as it faded, embellishing each time. 

"Is she friends with Pope too?" 

"Yeah." 

_Is she dating him? You? Do you get laid? What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking creep?_

"Is it hard to take care of Dr. Felonious Rex?"

Maybe George treated kids so he had to keep his real questions to himself. "No. She's really important."

"Does her being important make it easier to take care of her?" 

"It doesn't matter if it's easy, you just do it. I'd be a terrible person if I didn't feed her or hold her. I would never do that." 

George nodded. "Do you want to see pictures of my dogs?"

Oh, thank Christ the questions were over. George had huge dogs, the kind that looked like they'd kill you easy but he said they were actually wimps. George showed him a video of his dog Maisy trying to fit through his neighbor’s tiny doggy door. 

"Do you ever bring them to your office?" JJ asked. 

"Sorry, I don't. Have you ever had a pet before the doctor?" 

"Can you bring your dogs though?"

"I can't. Do you want to do something more active next week though? We could go to a nearby park, or play some games from the beginning."

JJ looked at the clock and saw the fifty minutes were almost up. "I don't know if I'm coming next week."

"We’re actually going to meet every week. All you gotta do is talk sometimes, you’re in charge.” 

“Yeah, right, you just wanna therapize me.” 

“Yep. Hey, at least it’s air-conditioned, huh?” 

Okay. So therapy was a con. And his therapist was in on it or was pretending to be at least. It was actually fucking embarrassing he didn’t figure it out first, but JJ would take the hand out. JJ could handle killing time a lot better than trying to show up all perfect and having this dude make a report. 

“You should make more videos of your dogs,” JJ said.

“Bring some videos of the good doctor,” George suggested, “that’ll kill some time next week.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song "Pure Gold" by tMG. This is not the typical update speed, I've just been writing the second half of this for MONTHS. Thank you so much for reading this fic, it's what spilled out when I started a silly Netflix show and it BROKE MY HEART OPEN. 
> 
> Also, y'all. This fic has an unreliable narrator with PTSD. Reporting abuse saves lives, it is not snitching. This is not a good secret. Just to be super clear. 
> 
> Comments are my favorite part of every week, thank you for sharing your thoughts and emojis! <3 <3


	3. Look for me everywhere the burn marks form, trying to find a place to keep warm

JJ’s DCS lawyer was named  _ Win Forrester  _ and she said her name exactly like that, every time she said it, full name, like it was possibly going to save your life so she had to  _ emphasize it.  _

Win Forrester was horribly inconvenienced by them living on Kildare, which was so fucking dumb because they lived on a big island with a ferry, what happened to kids who lived further out on smaller islands? Did they just get to die? 

Win Forrester called them on a Saturday on Mom’s phone without warning, and Mom came up and interrupted what was a very nice nap and shoved him over to sit next to him with the phone on speaker, not even giving him a weird look at the fact that he was sleeping on the wrong bed. 

“Do you have John there?” 

“John Jacob” Mom corrected, “JJ, Win Forrester needs some information about your mom.” Holy shit. JJ lay back down and pulled the sheet over his head and Mom snapped it away from him and yanked him back up. “Win what do you need?” 

“I need to know when John Jacob saw his mom for the last time.” 

“Eleven,” JJ said, hiding his face in Mom’s shoulder since she wouldn’t let him lie down. 

“2011?”

“When  _ I  _ was eleven.” 

“What were the circumstances?” Win Forrester asked. 

“I don’t know. She just didn’t come back.” 

“Had she left before?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“C’mon you’re seventeen years old, you can give me a lot more than that.” 

It would be really easy to figure out where Win Forrester’s office was and fuck up her car. Why was anyone in his face right now? “What do you want?” 

“Can you tell me when she’d left before?” 

“I don’t know. I think she went to jail or rehab or something. Can’t you lawyer records of that?” 

“Can you tell me what you remember?” 

He could slash her tires, or bash her windows in or maybe none of that because she was the only one who could get the adoption done but maybe she could be a little less of a bitch about it. 

“I don’t remember anything.” 

Mom took the phone away and held it up to her ear. “Hi, Win Forrester. Yeah. I think JJ needs more time to be ready to talk about this. Yes. Yes, he is. Yes, can I refer you to some literature about trauma? I think you’ll find it helpful in all your work. Yep, I’ll leave a message with your office.” 

Mom hung up and transferred JJ from laying on her shoulder to hugging him which was not as good as being allowed to lie down again. “You know, with your daddy right here we never really talk about your mama, huh?” 

“It don’t matter. She ain’t gonna just show up and want me. I just don’t remember, she was barely ever here. Why do they even need to know?” 

“It goes toward a pattern of...indifference. It’ll help them terminate her rights without her being here.” 

JJ pulled away from Mom. He lay down and pulled the sheet over his head. “Can you close the blinds when you leave?” he asked. 

“How bad is it?” 

“Nothing is bad, I just wanna go back to sleep.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The best day of the summer announced itself early. 

JJ woke up with the clear feeling that it would be a very good day for a Sunday, even if he had to work before it got good. 

Mom was getting ready for church when he left, which was an extremely long process and he walked past when she was doing the reading the bible part of getting ready but she stopped right away. 

“Stop,” she yelled. JJ stopped. “Where in the world are you going?” 

“Work.” 

“No no. Do you know where we’re gonna end up if you don’t rest?”

“Broke? Bye.” 

“Turn around and eat something right now.” 

“Bye Mom, love you bunches.” 

He headed out the door before she could jam in more questions, so he just heard her sigh and say, “You’re seventeen,” like she couldn’t do anything to stop him. 

And how well observed. JJ was in fact seventeen and he could not be stopped. 

JJ didn’t normally work Sunday brunch. It was the best tips of the week, and he was still far at the bottom of the pecking order. But Joya texted him in the middle of the night with the shift and stern reminder that he owed her. 

His tables included some evil fucking family who better be heading straight back to New York when this was over or JJ was definitely finding their rental car and slashing the tires and stealing everything in their trunk. He gave up on eeking out a good tip the second time the asshole fuck on his phone said, “You gonna write that down or what?” 

He had a chatty table of non-specific Northerners who talked about the  _ south  _ like it was a wild animal only observable in a zoo, so JJ’s normally kind-of-not-there accent came out in  _ full force  _ and he explained what grits were, dropping the g’s off the end of every word until he walked off with a 40% tip. 

One dude was traveling alone to the Outer Banks which meant he was either doing shady business or was weird. Less weird than that was his obvious, embarrassing crush on this teenage waiter, though JJ would take the fat tip he had coming without any complaint. 

JJ knew he was good looking, and he knew when he was being hit on, and he sure knew exactly how to flirt back just to the point of getting what he wanted especially when there was money on the other end. But this dude was forward as shit. And drunk. 

“You have a girlfriend?” the dude asked, leaning on the table on one elbow and gazing up at him. “...or a boyfriend, maybe.” 

“You know,” JJ said, grabbing his barely eaten plate, “kind of.” 

“C’mon, a good looking guy like you?” 

JJ smiled stiffly, more stiff than he actually felt. “My dad says I’m too young to date,” and walked away and waited until the guy felt enough like a pedophile to tip guilt-well, which he eventually did. Of course. 

Honestly, someone like JJ Maybank wasn’t supposed to have a job like this. If he got enough hours, JJ could drain Tourons of so much of their spending money that it caused a local economic crisis. As JJ counted $213 in tips after five hours of work, his phone started blowing up. He finished and stashed the cash in his waistband. 

Texts from Pope, Kie, Yaya, even his Aunt Mimi that amounted to  _ Mitch Fune got big-time busted  _ so it was time to get the fuck to the Fune estate to watch the show. The yearlong destruction of Ward Cameron was rare enough justice that no one expected another rich mega power going down less than a year later. 

It was Christmas, and Easter and everyone with time to spare made their way to the Fune estate to stand in the road and watch federal agents walk out with computers and binders. No one knew what he’d done, which meant Pogues weren’t involved so it was a complication-free party. 

“Let it burn!” someone yelled when some super cop came out with a filing cabinet on a dollie. JJ found Kie and Pope standing by Heyward watching the show. 

Heyward gave JJ an exhausted look. “What the hell you doing here?” 

“I got done with work.” 

“Work? You stupid kid, what’s wrong with you?” 

JJ raised his hands and did a little dance with them. “Nothing! Look, I’m not dead.” 

Heyward looked him over like he was actually checking before huffing and crossing the crowd to talk to someone less disappointing. Pope turned to him and Kie, “I bet it’s offshore stuff, I bet there are raids at no less than four other estates in North Carolina, right now.” 

“What do you wanna bet he won’t spend a single day in a cell?” Kie asked. 

“Nothing,” Pope said, “that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.” 

JJ grinned and volunteered, “Maybe not jail, but think of his  _ social standing.  _ People might avert their gaze at the club. That’s just as bad for these fucks. Kie did know them?” 

Kie shook her head. “They’re a completely different level of rich. Like, the distance between Earth and Mars versus Earth and Neptune.” 

“It sure sucks to be on Neptune huh, Mitch?” JJ yelled. 

Honestly, it was kind of boring, but it was worth the effort to understand each item leaving the house as a symbol of a rich fuck’s life being destroyed. Someone nudged JJ in the crowd, he turned around and saw their neighbor, Mrs. Hernandez, “Hey, you worked here, right? You gotta get out of here.” 

Mrs. Hernandez was the biggest gossip on the Cut, but JJ didn’t realize his occasional helping the grounds crew was gossip worth collecting. “Nah, I was under the table, they barely knew my name. I don’t think anyone’s interested in my testimony on what kind of lawnmower they had.” 

“They’re always interested in pinning it on some poor kid who was nearby,” Mrs. Hernendez said. 

All of a sudden Pope grabbed JJ’s shoulder. “We gotta go.”

John B. 

Rafe. 

Sheriff Peterkin. 

JJ knew they were in the clear, but he saw the panic in Pope’s eyes and knew what was behind it. Kie didn’t hear the exchange but still agreed to leave as soon as she saw Pope. Their dad didn’t have to worry so they left without telling Heyward so he could enjoy the best day of the year. 

Kie drove their now named car--“Sunday Sunday Sunday” or 3S--to her house, just to pick up her board and some beer before driving around looking for a surf spot that wasn’t choking with Tourons. Pope was stewing in the front seat, and JJ crawled up to stick his head between the front seats. “The FBI doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s going to be fine,” he told Pope. 

“You don’t know that.” 

He did know that, but JJ also knew that despite a lifetime of being ground under Kook’s heels, none of them saw Ward Cameron pinning a murder on John B coming, and none of them saw their escape plan ending with them believing their captain was permanently dead for months. When they found an almost empty spot on the shore with rocky sand and broken glass that scared off Tourons, Pope didn’t say a word, even when they found an okay spot to set their stuff and tried to peer pressure him into smoking and drinking. Pope just took off his shirt and flip flops and went in the water and then sank under the surface.

“He’s really in it,” Kie said. 

JJ pulled off his shirt and got to work unlacing his boots. They were the only concrete evidence that tied him to Mitch Fune, but he doubted the IRS cared about the boots that went missing from his garden shed over a year ago. But with as spun up as he was, JJ knew Pope would. So he definitely wouldn’t tell Pope about their origin. Only John B knew he’d stolen them, Pope definitely hadn’t noticed when JJ had gone from taped-up tennis shoes to  _ not lethal but they looked it _ boots during sophomore year.

They were starting to wear down a little, JJ had to glue the heel back on the left boot, and replace the laces half a dozen times. Even though he could easily get new shoes now, he didn’t  _ want _ to, and he didn’t want to give Pope any reason to freak and force him to hide evidence that he’d stepped foot on the Fune estate. 

JJ stuffed his socks in his boots and ran in the water, swimming out to where Pope was drifting over a sandbar. Kie crashed a second after him. Through triad telepathy, they all submerged themselves underwater and reached the surface at the same time. 

Kie spat water out. “Remember when we dragged Ferguson’s meat delivery into the street and called open season because he accused Big John of writing bad checks?” 

Pope laughed in spite of his funk. “Yeah, blamed it on the Sullivans. That’s when we accidentally kicked off our own Hatfield-McCoy rivalry.” 

Kie giggled. “Right? They still badmouth each other up and down town, and it was just a bunch of middle school surf rats. See? We can handle our shit. If JJ gets a white-collar crime syndicate pinned on him, we’ll blow up the FBI or something.” 

Pope shrugged and let himself be carried on a wave. “Okay, so I freaked a little, yeah. I’m just so sick of feeling like our lives could be ruined any second.” 

They didn’t have any encouraging answer to that so they surfed. Because they were damn good at it and even if they weren't no one could stop them. When they’d all inhaled enough ocean water they lay on the beach and discussed ways to get food. 

“JJ actually  _ has  _ money,” Kie pointed out, “we could walk into a restaurant, sit down, and pay.” 

“Nah,” Pope said, “doesn’t seem our style. Man, who’d’ve thought  _ JJ  _ is our sugar daddy.” 

“I’m not, fend for yourselves,” JJ said but then he had an  _ awesome  _ idea. “Wait, hold on. We gotta go to South Carolina.” 

Kie gave him a crazy look. “Because there’s no food here? No, let’s go to my parents' restaurant and confuse them with our money.” She jumped up and grabbed her towel and picked up her board.

JJ hurriedly followed her. “No, c’mon, we have to go to South Carolina and get fireworks. It’s tradition, it’s our annual trip. I’m seriously flush right now, it’s the perfect time.” 

Kie balanced her stuff and held her hand out for Sunday Sunday Sunday’s keys to stick her stuff in the trunk. “But no. It’s not. It’s like, four in the afternoon and that’s a fourteen-hour trip.” 

Pope put his stuff in the trunk next to yours. “And after yesterday? Our parents will kill both of us. Maybe Kie too.” 

JJ blocked them from just getting in the car and ignoring this. “Guys, we could totally go now. We can spend the night somewhere. It’ll be awesome.” Kie and Pope looked at each other. “Stop. Listen. We haven’t done anything really cool all summer.” 

“Today though?” Pope asked. 

Kie waved her hands to get their attention. “I’m sorry. No! I’m not driving to South Carolina. I have work tonight, and I am hanging out with Opal and Adelaide in the morning and I also don’t want to be killed by your parents.” 

That shifted things for Pope too. “Can’t we go next Saturday? There’s going to be a next Saturday, we have plenty of time before the fourth. Maybe North Carolina will make fireworks legal by then.” 

“We still haven’t done anything really awesome. C’mon, the day is young, let's go to Virginia at least. Let’s be young, let’s be wild.” 

“This is literally just about crossing state lines?” 

“Yeah, of course, we gotta get on the run from the feds.” 

  
  
  


North Carolina Highway 12 cut through the Outer Banks, all the way up to Virginia. They’d made the trip once before when Kie got her brand new car and they had a hundred bucks to burn and a massive bag of Starburst. 

“If we make good time we’ll be home before midnight,” Pope recited, “Two and a half hours there, two and a half back, some time in Heartache, we don’t even get grounded.” 

Kie’s shift at The Wreck got abandoned. 

They totally would get grounded one way or another, but at least something would happen to earn it. 

The 12 to Virginia had banks on either side of the two-lane road and they passed some spots that were more touristy-fake than Kildare and some there were less and they didn’t know this when they started, but the cell coverage on the 12 was not at all Spotify friendly. 

“Why doesn’t anyone have anything downloaded?” Kie complained, scrolling through Pope’s phone. “What with your data plans so limited it justifies felonies.” JJ was driving. He reached for Pope’s phone to make fun of his playlists but Kie said, “Oh my god no let’s not  _ die  _ this year, okay?”

“Downloaded!” Pope crowed, “Do you hear that JJ? Kie throws $9.99 around willy nilly.”

“You totally have ten bucks. Premium is so worth it.” 

“Not when there’s a free version. What are our options?” 

“JJ just has the  _ Fast and the Furious  _ soundtrack saved on his Google music app which--no. I don’t even want to know. It’s my phone then, get ready for Mitski up and down the coast.” 

JJ glanced away from the road and turned back to whisper to Pope, “We need to revolt.” Kie hit him and forced him to look at the road. 

They transferred their holding your breath underwater contest to holding their breath over bridges and in no time at all, they passed a sign for Virginia. JJ was still driving, he kept an eye out until they saw a familiar sign. 

Heartache, Virginia was the closest thing to a perfect town outside of Kildare. JJ had only been there once but he stood by it. And maybe there were more good things outside their ice cream shop, but anything else was incidental and would not change it’s standing. 

JJ hadn’t strictly been paying attention last time, but Heartache was small and he found it with minimal input from Kie and Pope yelling he was going the wrong way. They found a spot right in front of the store, Deep Freeze with a glorious amount of fanfare. 

The store was colored with acid level murals, monsters holding ice cream, and ice caves. It was cold, so cold JJ was pretty sure they’d have to take siege because he could never go back in their car with the dead body AC. They rushed to the display case. 

“Coconut cookies and cream,” Kie said, “that’s my future.” 

“I want that blue one,” JJ said, “No, shit. No, I want the green one with the cookies.” 

Pope leaned down so close his forehead almost touched the glass. “I have a new rule. A Virginia rule. We spend all our money on ice cream because we can’t take any back.” JJ and Kie quickly agreed with Pope solemnly accepted this and said, “I think I’ll start with a triple scoop of mint explosion, squid ink, and firecracker. Yes. This is my plan.”

They took over a table in the corner and watched tourists and kids come in and out. Kie watched one especially alien-looking tourist family come in and turned to them. “We’re tourists right now,” she said. 

JJ flicked his ice cream loaded spoon at her, “That is the meanest thing you have ever said.” 

They didn’t have a real food fight but they  _ did  _ get kicked out. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Pope and JJ only lightly broke curfew but their parents freaked and the fact that they were covered in dried ice cream did not lighten things up, especially when everyone started yelling about  _ yesterday.  _

But that was a different story. One that should get put in a box and cut off, not part of an otherwise awesome day, that kind of different story.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


George was a nerdy old dude but he did have some good ideas for how to kill fifty minutes. He was pretty up front that he wanted to pick at JJ’s brain, but he was willing to do a lot of more interesting shit between attempts. The second time JJ went there, he helped George label his rubber lizards and snakes correctly, and once they were done JJ got distracted winding the longest rubber snake around his left arm while George listened to his damn good story about trying to blow up a garage with John B when they were kids. George thought it was very funny. 

JJ was surprised when they got near the end and Geroge said, “I took some videos of my dogs for you,” and they traded phones so George could watch the videos of Dr. FR. JJ had taken the videos because Dr. Felonious Rex deserved to be documented regardless of whether a mainland therapist remembered their deal and wanted to see the videos. But George did. __

The third session they went to a park that was fake like out of a movie, flat with green green grass and a fountain in the middle of it. George hung back while JJ put his hand under the water until some family with kids came by and he backed off and followed George on a walking trail. 

“This you getting me alone so you can murder me?” he asked, picking up the pace a little to keep up. 

George pretended to consider that. “I always have you alone, this actually would be much a worse place to murder you than my office. People are walking by, no white noise machine to mask screaming.” 

JJ laughed. “So you’ve thought about it. Is that why you take DCS cases, so you can kill kids no one cares about?” 

“I think your parents and friends would care a great deal if I murdered you. I also don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Because it’d ruin your career.” 

“Nope.” 

JJ got distracted by drawing pictures of the trees in his head so he could check out if these were local to North Carolina when he got home. He needed to know more about mainland shit if he and Pope were going to be going way far inland for UNC in just a year. 

“Do you know a lot about this park?” JJ asked. 

“I don’t. I actually live further inland, but it’s pretty different here, your life doesn’t have a lot to do with the land you live on.” 

“Weird. Did you know when I was a kid I won a bet I could walk two miles from school to my house with my eyes closed and not bump into anything? A bunch of kids ditched their bus home to watch, they kept yelling trying to distract me but I won.” 

“Damn, JJ. What’d you win?” 

“Bragging rights. That’s before I knew to get the details hammered out beforehand.” 

“That’s pretty good.” George pointed to JJ’s left arm, “What happened there? 

JJ looked at his arm and saw the bruise spread over the crook of his elbow. Shit, it should be gone by now. “This is what track marks look like, George. I have something to tell you.”

“Solve the mystery, JJ.” 

“I’m hooked on smack. Black tar. Mexican. I buy it off--”

“Solve the mystery correctly.” 

JJ rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head, covering up the bruise. “I got a blood test at the ER over the weekend. I don’t remember what it was for. See, it’s boring and not even solvable.” 

“Why’d you go to the ER?” 

“Got bored.”

“JJ, we’re never going to solve this mystery without any clues.” 

JJ knew he had to change the topic now, but he couldn’t figure out a way how. 

“You want to hear about it? Why? It’s over. I’m fine now.” They approached a bench on the trail and George stopped walking and gestured for JJ to sit next to him. “How old are you? Do you have arthritis?” 

George rubbed his knee and nodded. “Yep. I got diagnosed about eight years ago, after a hiking injury. It bothers me a lot when it rains, so I picked the wrong state to live in, as you might guess. When it’s bad I do an Epsom salt bath and use Naproxen. Your turn.” 

It wasn’t like Geroge was going to call the cops, or come down to the boneyard and spread the word that JJ was a fucking wimp. JJ told doctors about it, George was basically a doctor. 

“I just get really bad headaches. I didn’t used to, just since my concussion last year. My mom told you about that right? That’s how I got taken out. My brain doctor says it should’ve stopped by now. It’s probably ‘cause I--because my head got hit more times before that. So that’s annoying. That’s a chips on the table thing right, you’re not going report that?”

“Not about that, you’re already safe. All I’m going to do is listen.” 

“And ask questions I don’t want to answer.” 

“Yep. Like, what happened at the ER?” 

JJ knew he thought he had headaches before his concussion, maybe he was hungover or did take a hit that hung around for a while. But they were specks of dust compared to the brain-melting, rooted up evil migraines that liked to periodically ruin his life.

It was always unbelievable how no matter how many times he came for the exact same reason, the ER doctors acted like he was faking. Like JJ was there because he wanted to be. If he was a junkie, there were faster, easier ways to get shit. JJ knew all of them. The ER would be his last stop.  The ER was the scariest place on earth.  Usually, other people talked about if JJ had to go to the ER for hours before it happened. It was never his decision. Usually, by then, he was just lying on the bathroom floor trying not to move. 

(He heard Mom once, on the phone with her voice quiet because that was at the point when it hurt to hear and she didn’t want to hurt him. “Luke, this is our third message. We’re taking JJ to the emergency room. He’s stopped responding and is severely dehydrated. Letting you know.”) 

By the time they were home and it was over and JJ could open his eyes and talk again, his parents would touch him and talk quietly like they thought he narrowly missed dying and would say things like, “You need to stay home tomorrow,” and “You never remember how upset you are the day after,” and JJ pretended he wanted to fall asleep because that was all fucking boring and not true.

He never fucking  _ wanted _ to go. 

JJ shrugged, and George just sat there, waiting him out until he gave up. “My parents just make me go if I throw up too much. They think I get dehydrated, and then it just gets worse. It’s kind of dumb. They give me an IV, and accuse us of scamming for drugs, give me some other stuff then send us home. That’s it. It was a waste of a Saturday.”

“What do you mean they accuse you of scamming for drugs?” 

“They act like I’m a junkie liar. They see Maybank on the chart. They see me. It’s fine, I know how it goes.” 

“But you’re not a junkie liar.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

George turned and looked at JJ straight on. “I’d find it upsetting if I needed help and someone didn’t believe the truth.” 

_ Fuck.  _ He couldn’t hit George. He couldn’t fucking hit a therapist.

JJ stood up fast, and George did too. “Great, mystery solved. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s a totally different story.” 

“A different story?” 

“Yes. It’s boring. This is stupid, you want to hear about my life? Fine, but that’s not remotely interesting. I went to Virginia the next day, let’s talk about that.” 

George full out stopped walking. JJ didn’t have to either, but he did, and carefully watched George process a very normal statement like JJ had just said something baffling. “You know, JJ, I appreciate that you like telling a good story, but your job isn’t to entertain me. I’d actually prefer you didn’t.”

Maybe the point of going to the park was that JJ couldn’t yell at him in front of other people passing by. JJ waited for a group of kids to pass before laying it out. 

“You’re trying to trick me into being your friend, right, so I’ll spill my guts and you feel like you did your job? Look, I’ll give, I can even cry later on if that’s what you need. But you don’t get to tell me how to tell it.” 

“And you only want to tell good stories,” George said. 

Fucking finally. “Yes.” 

“When do you tell the other stories?” 

“Later. I don’t. Whatever. There’s fucking not interesting stories George, this is such a waste of time.” 

Finally, George agreed or maybe gave up. “You’re right,” he said, “I don’t get to tell you how to talk about your life. If you ever do want to tell me a story that you get stopped on because you think it’s bad, or boring, just know that I  _ like  _ bad, boring stories. I actually like them better.” 

JJ gave George a sympathetic look. “God, I bet you watch the worst movies.”

“It must be a lot of effort, only telling the stories you think other people want to hear.” 

He went straight back to ignoring George for a while. They walked a lap around the park through the fake, paved walking trails that made JJ feel kind of bad for the dumbasses who lived here. No one was walking this with their eyes closed for the respect of their third-grade class. JJ waited George out so long it didn’t feel like winning when George broke first and said, “Were you going to cry now? You did offer.” 

JJ laughed. “Wow, fuck you.” 

“Are you able to cry on demand?” 

“Yeah. It’s very helpful. But I don’t do it when I can’t get anything out of it. Can you?” 

George shook his head. “I can’t. And therapists aren’t supposed to cry at all in front of clients, so I spend more time trying not to.” 

It wasn’t like that was a skillset JJ lacked, but George didn’t ask about that. “Why, do you have like, super pathetic patients?” 

“No, I only see really strong, resilient kids who’ve survived some very bad things.” 

“That’s nice,” JJ said, “You’re such a goddamn saint. What, all your kids have PTSD?” 

George started directing them toward a path that went toward the street. JJ checked his phone and saw they had less than ten minutes left. “No, not all of them. Some do. Do you know the symptoms of PTSD?” 

“I know my mom thinks I have it because I’m not super chill all the time. If anyone does, Pope does. He’s always acting like last summer is happening all over again.” 

That was a fucking perfect distraction, George was supossed to ask about Pope because he was important, but he didn’t. “You know, there are different types of PTSD. It was first developed for adults, with incident traumas in mind, car crashes, assaults, hurricanes.” 

"Hurricanes? Seriously? Does the entire Outer Banks have PTSD?” 

“Maybe. Probably a lot less of them have Complex PTSD, which happens to people who have overwhelming things happen to them repeatedly, abusive parents, captivity, dangerous neighborhoods.”

“That doesn’t apply to Pope though, his life was okay except last summer. Our neighborhood is okay, and his parents--our parents are really good.” 

“Well, Pope really needs to see his own therapist for what we’re talking about. My only job is to assess you.” 

That sounded dangerously like actual therapy. “Your job is to tell DCS my parents made me see you. We’re just killing time, right?” JJ reminded him. They reached the sidewalk where George’s office was west and the ferry was to the east. JJ knew where he wanted to be. “I’m just gonna leave, I don’t have to go back to therapy central, do I?” 

“You don’t,” George said, “Listen, I’m going to tell you this now because we have enough time to talk about it, then you can go be angry at me for a week. A lot of your behavior is consistent with PTSD, even without any assessments. Just things you’ve done in front of me. I’d like to start assessing you for PTSD, but if you don’t consent to that, we won’t because it would be miserable for both of us.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to talk about my Dad,” JJ snapped. 

“That’s a symptom of PTSD, actually. It’s called avoidance of reminders.”

“I don’t consent to any of that."

“Okay,” George said, “we won’t. Be sure to bring me some Dr. FR photos next week.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


JJ got home that night with sand in his hair, a big (very good story) scrape on his arm, wanting to be home so bad that he ditched Kie and Pope at Azrael’s just to come home on his own. He put on a sweatshirt so Mom wouldn’t flip when he crashed on the couch next to her. 

“How’s your head?” she asked, putting her book down. 

“It hasn’t hurt today. How is your head?” 

“It is filled with nonsense from this book.” Mom stroked his hair and said, “Honey, we have to get back to Win Forrester. She just wants to know what your mom’s presence has been like. If you really don’t remember, we can get one of your aunts or uncles to help out, but we do need to work on this.” 

It was so fucking unfair that JJ couldn’t actually burn out the pieces of his life he didn’t want, that the other stories didn’t go away. “I remember,” he admitted, “it’s just not--I don’t like it.” 

“I know," Mom said, “Life is a big tangly ball of ugly hurt sometimes.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Going Invisible 2 which is by FAR the newest Mountain Goats song I've used, a lot is from the 90's! A very JJ song, a delight to listen to but the lyrics are ALARMING to read. 
> 
> Thank you as always for your reading, your comments and your kindness! I love hearing from you :D


	4. We stole every bit of candy they had inside

Mom made a timeline so DCS knew exactly how abandonable JJ was. She used a piece of paper with marks from 0 to 11 and just said, “Do your best,” and JJ drew black lines when he remembered his mom being around. There were three tics between each age for the seasons and when he got stuck, Mom would say, “Think about winter, was your mom there when you were cold in fourth grade,” and the answer was “No.”

The lines got shorter and the space between them got longer and JJ felt dimly relieved that Mom hadn’t put marks for 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17 so he didn’t have to leave a big blank space of  _ not here.  _ It would be so glaring Mom would find ways to talk more about his first mom. 

“How much did you know her?” JJ asked. 

Mom carefully slid the marked-up paper away and slid it into the now bulging blue folder that she kept papers about him in. “Lulu--your mom--she was younger than me. You know, I knew her as well as you probably knew any kid a few grades younger.” 

“But you were in the book club with her,” JJ pressed, “You said there were only a few of you. You must have talked to her. What was she like?” 

JJ wished they weren’t at the kitchen table and were on the couch instead so he didn’t have to sit up and look at Mom full-on while they talked about this. It was always easier to talk on the couch when he got so zoned out he’d just end up practically on top of her talking about how scary the ER was or some other stupid shit. 

She nodded. “Lulu was...in some ways just like you. You are a very passionate person. You tell stories, and you love making people laugh and trying new things. She was a lot like that, like you.” 

There was a “but” hanging over every word she said. “And?” 

“I think she was using then....but it seemed further along than you’ve gone at her age. It’s why you make me nervous, JJ. You stop here. I want you to promise you aren’t trying anything but pot, okay?” 

This was an extremely boring conversation topic. “Yeah, no meth, no pills, I’m the All-American boy.”

* * *

  
  


Pope and JJ were not supposed to go to South Carolina for the annual trip because “fireworks are illegal for a good reason,” and “I can’t keep track of who is grounded but one of you is,” and all that just added to the fun of it. 

They left at seven, and they took Kie’s car. Over the course of a week the roster for who was coming changed over and over, because they had to find someone who was eighteen who wouldn’t be a pain to be in a car with. Way before, it was Big John, taking a bunch of kids across state lines. Last year it was no one, because of the G game. This year it was Yaya. 

If life was a movie and Kie and Pope got taken by each other and JJ needed to end up with someone, it would be Yaya. 

Yaya was smarter than Pope, probably, and she would tell you to your face that she was taking over the world one day. She was the first in their group to turn eighteen and turned her legal age into a business right away, selling cigarettes at a markup and demanding a percentage of the fireworks bought with her ID and free meals. 

“What are you going to do when everyone else turns eighteen?” Kie asked her as they sat in traffic on the 12, surrounded by early riser Tourons excited for a fun day on snorkeling on Violet Island or some shit. 

“Oh I’m gonna be out of here by then,” Yaya said, meticulously unwrapping a pink starburst and folding the wrapper. “I’m graduating early, you all can enjoy majority age without me.” 

“Do you know how to make a chain with those?” JJ asked, looking at the wrappers stacked on her knee. She shook her head. JJ grabbed a handful of candies and started unwrapping. “We can make a bracelet, it’s easy. Whoever is the princess of this trip gets it.” 

When they were kids JJ figured he’d marry Yaya. Their last names were Martinez and Maybank, so he sat next to her and his locker was next to her, and they didn’t talk really because she was a girl, but they were the same in a lot of ways. They both were fastest when they did the mile in eighth grade and got in trouble for drawing in class and they both got called to the social worker's office together every year to try on pinchy shoes. 

When they had sex, it was like they were checking a box. Maybe Yaya felt differently, but that’s how JJ saw it. Word got around that they were both on the market, and they ended up in her room during a party that hadn’t yet fallen to disaster. 

That’s another way they were the same. Their houses were cursed. Kids who were chill and kind of left well enough alone on the beach got possessed in Yaya’s house, and there was at least one fight every party. The fight was expected at this point, but the who and the how was always a surprise. The biggest difference between them was that Yaya invited people over to participate in her houses’ curse, and JJ would set fires anywhere he went to keep people from looking at his.

JJ objectively saw that sex felt good, but it was sweaty and boring even with someone as cool as her. Yaya got dressed and put her hair up when they were done. “Oh man. I wasn’t even close” she said.

JJ got dressed real quick. “Fuck you Yanira, I was awesome. I blew your mind.” 

“Man, never again. Now I don’t gotta worry about you knocking me up and ruining my future,  _ thank you Jesus.” _

It was kind of funny. Even then.

Yaya did not seem at all bothered by the two of them not being deeply in love, she was just glad to be going to buy some explosives. 

“Why aren’t we just going to the Rez?” she asked, “It’d take like three hours.” 

JJ was sitting in back with her. “We wanted to hang out with Yaya Martinez, best excuse we could come up with.”

“It’s a tradition,” Pope supplied from the driver's seat. 

“Whose tradition? It’s a stupid one.”    
  


“It’s John B and Big John’s,” Kie said. 

“Oh, sorry,” Yaya replied. “Shit.” 

John B was dead to most everyone. His name still had power, especially coming from their mouths. No one else knew that he was just an idiot who sent badly coded postcards about how clear the water was down there. No mention of finding any gold, like they were just going to forget $400 million like that, just because John B managed to get the restitution money to them. To be fair, it wasn’t really on their minds too much once that got settled. 

(“I don’t want to know,” Heyward said, when they needed his help submitting the money. “Unless you in some kind of trouble you can’t fix, I never, for the rest of my life, on my deathbed or yours wanna know.” So they didn’t tell him. Mom thought Topper dropped the charges, if she actually believed something so unrealistic.)

On the six-hour ride to the border the four of them ate through one giant bag and six packages of Starbust until JJ started feeling sick. Everyone took turns driving except JJ who was busy making wrapper chains and teaching other people how. 

“Did you go to camp or something?” Kie asked as he worked on finishing a bracelet around her wrist. 

“Is this a camp thing, rich girl?” 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m confused that its apparently a major JJ Maybank hobby. It’s kind of a girl thing too.” 

JJ finished the bracelet and reached for the cup he and Yaya were keeping wrappers in. “That’s not very fourth-wave feminist, Kiara. Gender is just an identity with no prescribed behavior or appearance. I’m very hurt by the box you’ve put me in.” 

Kie dropped it, so JJ didn’t have to spend too much time wondering where the hell he did learn how to do it. 

South Carolina looked just like North Carolina, and they found a roadside tent within minutes of crossing the border. Kie parked next to a truck with windows made of tape binding together chunks of safety glass. 

Pope carefully watched the people coming in and out of the tent. “Strange white place plan. Stick together, be cool, bail or throw JJ at them if something goes wrong.”

The dude at the counter was probably racist as shit, he examined Yaya’s ID so long that it was like he was waiting for Trump himself to call and say she was undocumented, but Yaya just smiled and held her hand out until he handed it back and they walked out bags of legally obtained explosives. JJ got in back with Yaya and stashed their haul in the tunk. 

Yaya sorted out what belonged to her. “Is it true you guys go to Figure 8 every year for a two AM show? I remember John B sending a mass snap with where to look.” 

Pope turned around, “Don’t tell okay?” 

Yaya laughed. “Who are you talking to?” 

Maybe she wasn’t in their inner circle but Yaya was Pogue through and through and Pogues don’t snitch on other Pogues. Pope knew that. 

“We take our boat to Figure 8 after they’re done with their little shows. Far enough out it’s not going to start a fire, not that any of those tools think about that. Big John figured out that no one ever got busted by the coast guard out there, just in the Cut. Kooks literally pay them off, it's safe all night. We wait until everyone’s done working so people can see it without someone tapping on their shoulders with drink orders. Nothing like what they can do, but it’s the best we get.”

Yaya pointed to the trunk, “You bought some serious TNT, you never worried about setting yourselves on fire?” 

“We can swim,” JJ said, “don’t worry about us.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Since George got the wrong idea about what they were doing here, JJ decided not to waste time, and showed George the pictures of Dr. Felonious Rex right at the beginning. It would effectively ruin any attempts he made to turn this into legit therapy. 

Dr. Felonious Rex got bigger all the time, she shed her skin and left it behind in her cage. JJ showed George pictures it. Sometimes it looked like she was in the tank with her own ghost. George asked, "Is she much bigger than when you got her?" 

"If you ask Heyward or someone who doesn't pay attention, she's totally the same but she's not. We have to be careful about closing her tank because she's really egging to escape these days. If she pops up in our bed--in one of our beds Pope will literally die."

George agreed, "I wouldn't like waking up to that either. Do you have any other photos you want to show me? Of the doctor, or anything else?" 

JJ tapped the side or his phone. This felt just on the edge of actual therapy. "Of what?"

"I'm pretty curious about what your friends look like if you wanna share."

Did he have any photos they weren't breaking some law in? 

Yes. All the photos from the party with Mom’s family on Sunday were totally fine. JJ leaned forward to show George his phone but leaned back and decided fuck that, he wasn't going to spend the whole hour learning across the room holding up his phone. "Just come sit next to me dude."

George nodded and got up, sitting down just close enough for JJ to not have to reach too far with the phone. JJ flipped through his photos until he got to the boil, the first photo of it dumped out on the table, piles of shrimp, crab, corn, and potatoes. It was a damn good haul, and it had to be with how big the party was. 

"Damn, that's a feast. Perk of Heyward's store?"

JJ looked at George suspiciously. "You don't know what this is George? It's a Lowcountry boil. You dump what you've got in a pot and invite everyone you like over. Are you that far inland, dude?"

"JJ, I know you lived here all your life so you've got some wrong ideas, but remember I'm  _ from  _ South Carolina where it was invented.” 

"You ain't from the banks for SC though," JJ asserted, feeling confident about that. He'd had to explain too much about the water and boats for George to have just been trying to get him to talk.

George agreed, "No, Midlands. Pretty different. Where was this?" 

JJ looked back at the photo. "This was Mom's dad's house. Mr. Lewis. He's stupid old. It was for the fourth of July but we did it early because everyone's gotta work. See look." JJ scrolled ahead to a photo of Mr. Lewis looking particularly old, sitting with his wife Ms. Zelda who was less old which Mom had "some feelings" about and that was all she'd say about that. 

George took his time taking in Mr. Lewis in his worn fishing hat, and JJ realized he was such a therapist that he wouldn't stop looking interested until JJ changed the subject. He took his phone back and scrolled through, showing mom's brother Ezekiel and his wife, and his kids Gemma and Aster who, JJ explained, were the best kids ever.

His cousins really liked the bubbles JJ brought them, there were some pictures of him sitting on the grass with them playing that Kie took, and JJ showed those quick before bumping up on some selfies he took with Kie and Pope that weren't part of what he was showing George so he took the phone back. 

"That's it."

"Did you have a good time at the party?" George asked, taking the hint and going back to his chair. JJ shrugged. "I know your parents are your parents. Do you feel like the extended family is your family too?"

"I’m still a Maybank. That means something.” 

"You can have multiple extended families. There's room for lots of grandparents, uncles and aunts."

It took a minute for JJ to remember why that hit wrong. George waited. "That's what my mom said. About my mom."

"What did she say?" 

"She said I could call her 'Mom' and call my first mom that too and it was okay because there's room for lots of moms."

“What do you think of that?”

JJ put his phone away. “Can we play a game or something?” 

“Sure,” George said, “go ahead and pick one.” 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Here’s what happened. 

Sometimes the rest of the family  _ said  _ they were out of food, but they just didn't want to get creative and try peanut butter tuna crackers. Other times they _were_ out of food except for one half-eaten pickle spear, and JJ was supposed to have gotten groceries three days ago.

And Heyward was  _ very tired  _ and when he discovered that they were out of food he got all devastated and sat at the table looking at the fridge like he might die right there. 

"I'll go to the store Ten minutes,” JJ promised, “Not ten. Longer. But I’ll be right back. Do you want me to get you beer?” 

“So we can spend more time with cops?”

“I’ll get you like candy or something, on me.” Heyward looked at him all exhausted, like JJ was personally killing him. “I’m  _ sorry.  _ I’ll be right back. I’ll bring candy. Don’t leave.” 

Heyward shook his head. “JJ, why--I don’t care about candy. I just want you to do your responsibilities. I’m hungry, not mad. You want me to come with you?”

JJ didn’t want that. He didn’t know where people got the idea that he couldn’t do things on his own. For a little, after Dad showed up at Ezekiel’s and said plain as day that he was done being JJ’s dad, his parents didn’t want him to go to town. Like he was suddenly in danger. He used to live with Luke Maybank. Alone. Now JJ was just someone Luke Maybank didn’t want. He’d never been safer.

So when JJ saw Dad at the end of the freezer aisle, there was no good reason for why his heart pounded in his ears and he froze where he stood, gripping a grocery cart like it was some oversized suburban shield.

What the fuck was his fucking junkie dad doing at a goddamn grocery store? What’s next, was JJ going to run into him in a bank, or a fucking tax office?

Behind JJ some kids knocked into the bulk candy display. JJ turned to look and when he turned back, Dad was staring right at him. 

Kildare was a big island but JJ knew maps and he knew it was nothing compared to even the smallest towns on the mainland. This was bound to happen. He should have been prepared. 

Seriously, a fucking grocery store?

Dad looked him over, looked at the haphazardly full cart JJ was holding onto. He didn't have a cart, he was holding a loaf of bread by the hanging end and in the other hand had a jar of peanut butter balanced on a six-pack of probably the cheapest beer in stock. It was so fucking pathetic that JJ almost wanted to invite Dad back home for dinner. He probably hadn't had a dinner at a table with forks in his entire life. 

“Hey,” Dad yelled. Not scary. Awkward. 

“Hi,” JJ said. 

Dad looked behind his shoulder and carefully walked toward JJ. “You're here.” 

“Yep.” He was fucking stoned. His eyes were glassy. JJ could see the hand holding the bread twitching. JJ was stoned too, but not this kind. Not idiot stoned. “You good, Dad?” 

“Sure. You know me. It’s--yeah. Good.” 

Stupid stoned. Might kill people on the drive home stoned. Not JJ’s fucking responsibility anymore stoned. 

Dad glanced down at JJ’s cart and smirked. “Who’s the yogurt for?” 

“Pope.” 

Dad lifted his hand with the bread and seemed to remember it was there so he couldn’t gesture stupidly. “You--ah--Bart’s next week?” 

JJ wasn’t going to the Maybank party for the fourth. Maybe if he wasn’t working with Heyward that night, but maybe he was relieved to have an excuse not to. The triad had important plans for when they were done with work anyway. 

“Can’t. Work.” 

“Damn. They work you to the bone, huh? You must be stacked.” 

That was a super incorrect use of the word _ stacked.  _ “Nah. Matt said you’re working with his dad on Pierson’s boat?” 

“It’s shit work. Not nice like you, fuckin’ bussing tables in the AC.” 

JJ was surprised that Dad knew what job he had, even if it was old information. If he knew the kind of money JJ was making now, he’d get a lot more interested in mending fences. 

“Your ah, Heyward’s old lady. She said you had to go to the ER?” 

“Total overreaction,” JJ said.

_ You know every call you don’t answer just kills your case with DCS right? It’s exactly what I want. _

“They give you any good stuff? Oxys?” 

_ I’m so happy you don’t give a shit.  _

“I gotta go,” JJ said. 

“Shit. Alright,” Dad said, “be seeing you, then.” 

Then he was gone. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When he got home Heyward helped him put everything away, and accepted the pack of gum and Mentos. Heyward stood there for a second, looking at JJ. “Shit, you’re in one of your moods, huh? What happened?” 

JJ had been extremely normal since he got home and Heyward interrupted a great story about what happened at the store when Kyle Barker’s EBT card didn’t work. There was no reason for such an outrageous accusation. 

“Which mood?” 

“The mood you're in when you do something stupid forty minutes later . You ain’t the only one who can read people, kid. You’re grounded for the next hour, rather have you do something incredibly stupid here.” 

“You are the only dad in the entire world who grounds people in hour-long increments.” 

“I am the only dad capable of grounding JJ Maybank, is why.” 

Maybe Heyward was wrong but that did accelerate him from a  _ stupid in forty minutes  _ mood to a  _ stupid right damn now  _ mood. 

  
  
  


* * *

JJ had run out of the house, got high, stolen a pack of M&M’s, or actually almost stole, then put them back, then regretted that so bad it made him mad all over again, went home, and apologized for yelling. 

Heyward also apologized for yelling and that was so  _ in-fucking-sane _ that JJ left again and drove Sunday Sunday Sunday to town hall and waited for Pope to be done with his fucking presentation about curb colors or something with the Youth Council. He sat for an hour and tried not to do anything else until Pope got in the car.

"Kie's waiting for us to pick her up. Any of your nerd friends want a ride to the Boneyard?" JJ asked.

Pope didn't even look at the window, but JJ did and saw the nerd friends getting in their parents' European cars. " Got a nice text from our dad. You are very grounded." 

JJ started the car. "That's tomorrow's problem." 

"Oh, I love when you say that," Pope said, "Makes our homelife so very peaceful." 

* * *

  
  
  
  


The second they could ditch their fourth of July responsibilities, the triad loaded all their fireworks and Kie’s blowtorch and JJ’s zippo and a cooler of beer on the HMS Pogues and rode into the dark. Boating at night was dangerous. Setting fireworks off a boat was dangerous. Setting illegal fireworks off a boat when you’re exhausted and ready to destroy the entire world was all very dangerous. 

The fourth of July was the only day of the year it was perfectly fine to be an undetonated bomb. 

Pope took responsibility for sending the “where to look” to other Pogues on Snap. Kie reminded them of the “don’t set ourselves on fire” routine then they got to work. 

When you’re the one setting off fireworks you can’t really see them, it’s just an explosion of light you’re standing under. But you can feel the heat and the  _ bang  _ so loud it hit your skin and the burns on your hands and it makes it okay to scream until your entire body hurts because everyone else is. 

They didn’t set themselves or anyone else on fire, and they drove to a diner that stayed open overnight for tourists. Pope went inside to get milkshakes while JJ sat with Kie on the ground outside. 

JJ examined a burn on his palm that he didn’t remember getting. It was nothing. No blisters, just red. Angry. 

The fireworks used to always stay in JJ’s body and he could hear the banging so long it was impossible to sleep. He’d dream of firework for weeks. 

“You okay?” Kie asked. 

He just wanted to go home and sleep. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When Mom came home JJ could tell without even seeing her face, without even getting near her, what kind of back it was. 

Whether he could rush up to her and hug her and she’d pick him up and laugh like she’d just been at the store and he was up here acting like she’d been gone for a whole birthday and Halloween too. And he’d show her his lost teeth and she’d show where she’d lost one too and she’d whisper, “We gotta go heist on the tooth fairy, huh JJ?” and she’d show him a new tattoo and say, “We should make you one too, shouldn’t we?” and JJ would agree with everything she said.

Or if she was the bad, sad kind of home, and he should enter the room careful, as quiet as he could, and maybe she’d look up from the dusty table and try to smile and he’d try so so hard not to run at her. Because she’d just push him away if he wanted a hug and that was worse than her being gone.

JJ used to think maybe Mom went to the mainland to get candy and just got lost, because a lot of the time when she came home she had lots of candy and lots of gum. He wasn’t allowed to have gum because he might swallow it and have it stuck in his stomach for seven years which was exactly how old he was when Mom came back with Mentos too. 

She unwrapped pieces of gum and chewed a whole pack while she showed JJ how to make the wrappers into a chain and promised to make him a bracelet with them. 

“Bracelets are for girls,” JJ objected. 

Mom tickled his nose with her wrapper chain, “Bracelets are for wrists, and this one is going to be for yours.” 

Before she left, Mom was really crazy, and yelled and made lots of noise and threw things and JJ would hide in his closet and remember stories until it got quiet and Dad would come in and say, “C’mon let's you fed, yeah?” and JJ didn’t know where Mom was when Dad was opening a can of beans and microwaving rice. He was glad it was over. If she wasn't there in the morning, JJ got scared though that she’d really stay gone for real. Dad smacked the back of his head when JJ asked where she was so he stopped asking. Even when she was gone for a really long time. 

JJ’s grown-up cousin Zeb told him that Mom was a tweaker and Dad hit Zeb which everyone was way more upset about that than any time he hit JJ. 

But JJ thought maybe she wasn’t a tweaker anymore, whatever it was, because she didn’t yell or throw, she sat on the couch and tapped her foot and folded up the gum wrappers and stared at the TV. And sometimes she was happy JJ was there like when she told him about the Mentos. 

Mom stiffened up when JJ got too close to her on the couch but when he scooted away she pulled him back. He tried not to smile too stupidly and grabbed for the new white candies. “Are these gum?” 

“Nah, but they’re boring, they don’t taste good.” JJ grabbed a white candy out of the wrapper and chewed. Maybe they were boring, but they tasted good. “Don’t eat any more. If your daddy ain’t a shithead and brings me Diet Coke like I asked we’re gonna make them explode. You seen that on YouTube?”

“What?" JJ asked excitedly “What’s gonna explode?” 

“We’re--JJ don’t,” Mom took the candies out of his hands, “we need them. We’re going to put them in the Coke and it’s going to explode. If I had a fancy phone I’d show you. It’s gonna be real cool.”

JJ was still getting to touch Mom and she was still talking to him, an explosion was just about the coolest thing she could do. “My teacher from school has a phone.” 

“You steal her phone for your mommy, okay?” 

“Okay,” JJ agreed. His teacher kept her phone in the front pocket of her backpack, it’d be real easy to take for Mom.

Mom bopped him on the side of the head. “No. Do not steal her phone for Mommy. Don’t steal anything.” 

“Okay.” JJ hid the extra candy he took in his mouth because that was stealing and he wasn’t allowed to right now. He chewed the candy until a big, scary idea came to him. “Am I gonna  _ explode _ ?” 

Mom laughed. “God, no honey. You ain’t made of Coke. Just don’t drink any when Daddy comes home to be safe. You’ll be fine in the morning.” 

JJ had never been an undetonated explosive before. “Where do they have exploding candy?”

“They're normal candy. A lady I was with before had them. I traded for them. I said, ‘My kid’s gonna love this, he loves watching shit explode.'"

“I trade like you,” JJ said eagerly, “I trade the M&M tubes at school. They’re yellow and green and red, and I get them at K’s but I eat the M&M’s first so I don’t even care if they're gone. I got erasers shaped like cars from Aiden, he’s the one who broke his collarbone.” 

“You’d do great in jail honey,” Mom said, then stopped. “No. Shit. You’re not allowed to go to jail.” 

“Okay,” JJ agreed. “Did you go to jail?” 

Mom laughed loudly. “Yeah, but mostly I went to a place where I had to draw and talk and read. I went to second grade. So much better.” 

JJ giggled, imagining his mom sitting on the green carpet in his class at school to learn about the Titanic. “Did they have kids there?” 

“Just ladies like me. There was a dog once.”

“What was the dog’s name? What color was it? Was it big?” 

“I don’t know, It was big. Big like Bart’s dog, remember that one?” 

“Are you going to go back?” The place before had candy and there was a  _ dog.  _ JJ couldn’t beat that. “Can I come with you this time?” 

“Not without a sex change and a major substance abuse problem. You better not do neither,” Mom said. JJ didn’t understand any of that but Mom laughed so it was a joke. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re staying here, forever, okay?” 

Okay,” JJ agreed. Mom had good ideas. They saved Mentos and Dad brought Coke and Mom jumped around and let JJ be the one to put the Mentos in the bottles and it  _ exploded  _ and after they were done Mom gave him some of the Coke from the unexploded bottle and he had to remind her, “I ate the candy, if I drink it I’m gonna explode.” 

“People can’t explode,” Mom teased him.

* * *

  
  
  


“Hey, wanna hear something cool?” 

JJ showed up for therapy and didn't give George a chance to try. No snake pictures, no jokes, just JJ sitting on the couch and staring at his phone. But George didn't try, he just sat there and let JJ scroll through Instagram until he broke, all on his own. 

“Sure," George said easily.

“When I was a kid I thought my mom left me to get candy. I thought there must be better--no not better. I just thought there was candy somewhere else and that’s all she needed. And I thought that made sense, because I was so fucking bad, just about anything was better than me.” 

“Do you still believe that?” 

JJ shrugged. He was still tired. He’d stayed tired. The fireworks didn’t do what they were supposed to do. He’d gotten the worst tips of his life all week and Joya threatened to send him home when he forgot three orders in one morning. He wasn’t  _ good.  _

“I saw my dad. He pretty much got close enough to ask me for drugs, then left.” 

George watched him. Waiting. JJ checked the clock behind him. He’d been silent for twenty minutes. He knew how to go longer. 

“Still like boring stories?” 

“I do,” George said, “Got any you want to tell?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Recognition Scene by tMG. 
> 
> Alternative title, "Anger is a secondary emotion" alt alt title "you have to feel safe to express sadness so here we are 70k in" alt alt alt title "suspend disbelief around fireworks for the extended metaphor"
> 
> Thank you for reading and thank you for commenting, I love hearing from you!


	5. Stay warm inside the ripple of the Panasonic hum

JJ could tell that George was just about the most excited he’d ever been in his entire life. What a banner day, cagey island boy JJ Maybank talked about his sad little white trash life, unprovoked, and now the healing could really start. George's effort to stay silent and calm was practically a living animal in the room. 

He stayed quiet for a few minutes more. Not even a minute actually. It felt like if JJ started talking now he wouldn’t ever stop, so he had to be really careful. 

“My dad didn’t let me talk about my mom. I haven't in a long time. It was like, he could talk about her as much as he wanted and say any shit about her, but if I even mentioned her it was--it was bad.” 

“That’s pretty common,” George said. 

It felt like everything about JJ’s life was some dirty secret, just the idea that anyone else got smacked in the head sooner than he could finish a sentence about his mom was enough to make his breath catch. “It is?” 

“It’s not good, but it’s common. People don’t want to talk about things that upset them. But it’s a parent’s job to let kids talk about what they need to talk about.” 

“ _Oh_ , do you think my dad was a bad parent?” 

George ignored that. “Do you want to talk about your mom?” 

No. Yes. No, not really at all but other people made him and now JJ couldn’t stop thinking about her. He could go months without thinking about his mom for a second, it was like she never existed. 

“I don’t know why DCS cares about when she was here and when she wasn't. She's not now, why does it matter?” 

George wrote on his notepad. “What do you know about where your case is right now?” 

“I know that my first parents still have rights. And they need to not so I can get adopted. It’s kind of mean. Just because they suck doesn’t mean they have to do that. There’s going to be a trial, and my mom can’t even come to say anything during it.” 

“JJ, do you want me to tell you what I generally know about this process?” 

“Yeah.” 

“If a judge finds cause to terminate their rights, it’ll be because of abandonment or sustained mistreatment, so they need the information to determine if that happened. They might have recent information about your dad, but not your mom.”

“But it’s just talking bad about her. No one’s like, ‘Hey JJ, tell us about the weird voices your mom used to do to make you laugh.’” 

“You can talk about those things, tell me about them.” When JJ didn’t immediately offer up a sea of heartwarming stories, George continued, “I know, it might feel like you’re betraying her, but you’re just telling the truth. And your bio parents--your first parents--have a right to defend their parental rights, DCS will contact them. They’ll get a lot of notice.” 

“They can’t contact my mom. They have no idea where she is. She doesn’t--” 

_She doesn’t even get to try._

There were pictures of her at Dad’s house, huge batches that were taken when Mom got into taking pictures, and got them printed at the CVS. Hundreds of photos taken in a week, with years in between. Mom posing with crushed black birthday cake all over her hands. Mom with a lit cigarette in one hand, and the other arm around JJ looking like a ten-year-old maniac. Before, JJ had dozens hidden in his room. He took them with him to Pope’s house. 

JJ had a lot of photos of his mom. 

Google had pictures of Mom too. Dead faced, methed out, mugshots. They were glued in his head when Shoupe made him stand for a mugshot after Topper’s boat. He wondered if Mom was ever this scared, cold, nauseous, _brain left your body_ scared. 

Dad was the kind of junkie who somehow evaded the notice of law enforcement despite being sloppy as shit. Loud, local, _Luke Maybank,_ never left the island, only went to prison twice. He was a professional goddamn junkie, only went far enough to give his kid brain damage, if not himself. Mom though, she went too far, over and over. Got arrested a lot. JJ found all her arrest records online. He had the details memorized, even when reading was so much harder. _Kildare woman, Louisa Maybank, was found in a stolen car with less than 1 oz of marijuana. She was booked at Fort Union and is awaiting trial._

There should have been more of those, but there weren’t any in the last seven years.

“DCS wasn’t able to find her,” JJ told George. “I don’t know how hard they tried though. I was all messed up when I was in the group home, I probably said her name was Lulu, not Louisa. And they were just like, _cool, done_ , after I went to Pope’s house. We’re just talking about her now, and I doubt they did anything more than Google her. They’re kind of stupid.” 

“They are kind of stupid,” George agreed. 

JJ laughed. “Right? I bet they just kind stood outside and whispered, ‘ _JJ’s mom?’_ into the wind. And quit after that. It’s just not fair. She might have--” 

_What, forgot I existed? If I just showed up she’d be like, Oh snap, I still have a kid! Time for me to come back and be your mom again._

“What if you asked your caseworker what they’ve tried? DCS usually checks government records and prisons and asks around. A little more than whispering into the wind, but I get why you’re worried. ” 

“Like taxes?” 

“Yep.”

“That wouldn’t work.”

“What would work?” George asked. 

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know. More pointed whispering in the wind? Drag some meth on a string around North Carolina until she jumps out at it. That would work.” 

“I think you’d have a lot of false leads,” George said. 

“Ha,” JJ said sarcastically. He wondered if George was this much of an asshole with his kid patients, or he changed it up for JJ’s benefit. “That’s it. That’s all the sob story you get. I hope you’re happy.” 

“I’m very happy,” George said. “I’m really happy you told me all that, and I hope you keep doing it. So bear with me for this next part. You told me you saw your dad. You need to tell me more about that.” 

JJ groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Jesus Christ, George. You said you wouldn’t snitch about my dad. Nothing happened.” 

“All I know right now is that you saw your dad and he asked you for drugs. I need a lot of context before I agree that I don’t have to snitch.” 

Fucking fine. JJ filled George in on the grocery store. He kept accidentally saying things that didn’t help the Don’t Snitch campaign, like how Dad’s hands were shaking and he was probably on Vicodin or a fistful of bennies. He had to add more stuff to stress how fine it was. Like that Dad didn’t touch him, and when JJ said he had to leave, Dad didn’t even try to keep talking to him. Just let him go. 

In the end, George said, “Well. You’re seventeen, it was in public and you were physically safe the whole time. I don’t have to snitch. I do think you should tell your parents. Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Because nothing happened.” 

“That must have been tough, seeing your dad when he was that intoxicated.” JJ snorted. “Not tough?” 

“Not tough. I don’t know why everyone acts like my dad just suddenly stopped being an awesome person, and I need help dealing with it. I dealt with it for sixteen years. And it’s harder when he’s not high. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near him if I couldn’t tell he was down.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he’s worse when he’s sober.” 

“What does 'worse' look like?” 

It felt like a timer went off in JJ’s brain. He was done talking. JJ looked around the room for a good way to change the subject. George had left the shades over the toy shelf open and it seemed like some sick power play, like forcing JJ to look at shelves and shelves of toys would make him want to talk about his pathetic life.

JJ was still so tired. This didn’t help at all. 

“Do you have any pictures of your dogs?” JJ asked. 

George paused, then pulled out his phone. “Alright. That was awesome JJ. We leave it there today. I have a video of Maisy chasing a squirrel that you’re gonna love.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Sometimes the universe wasn’t totally evil. Like how when JJ didn’t want to do a single thing except lie around his house, it rained for five days straight. There was no making excuses to not go on the water or hit the Boneyard when he just straight couldn’t. 

JJ was a perfectly average waiter that week. He’d see marks, like two lesbian old ladies from Texas who wanted to take him home. He could go with the (kind of, maybe, but fully not really) gay route, talk about his (kind of, maybe, but fully not really) boyfriend. Or he could just seem particularly motherless. JJ was pretty sure he just screamed motherless on a daily basis, but he didn’t work it enough to get anything but average tips. 

Then he went the fuck home. 

Maybe if he could go to a home to that wasn’t a fucking war zone before now, JJ wouldn’t feel like such a weirdo for never wanting to leave home again. 

Mom was working afternoons and nights, so he’d usually cross paths with her before she left. 

“Are you alright?” she asked on Wednesday, after four days of JJ being a pathetic shut-in. She passed him on her way out, lying on the couch scrolling through his phone. 

“So great.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone in the middle of the day. Is this a migraine?”

“Nah Mama, just teenage laziness.”

Mom looked at the door like she was seeing how much later this interaction would make her. She held out her hand and JJ dutifully sat up so she could feel for a fever, even though he knew he didn’t have one. Mom’s hand was warm and gentle and JJ was very tired, and a stupid part of his brain wanted to ask her to stay. 

“We’re gonna talk later. You take your meds if you even think you’re going to have a headache. Don’t wait until you can’t see.” 

“I will,” JJ promised. 

Okay. So. Fundamentally motherless, not literally. There was literally no excuse for this sad-sack shit. When Kie came over, it took a huge amount of effort just to sit up so she could crash next to him on the couch and watch TV. It took even more effort to talk about her non-cosmic friends, even though anything that was important to Kie was automatically important to JJ, even her weird new friends. 

“Opal is convinced we should submit our dance for the Fish Fry variety show,” Kie said. 

“Oh,” JJ said. 

“ _Oh,”_ Kie agreed, “I love modern dance, and I love the Fish Fry and those loves are mutually exclusive.” 

“Where’s Opal from?” 

“Freemont. It’s her first summer here. Like, honestly, without me she’d get eaten alive.” 

“Is that why you’re hiding your non-cosmic friends from us?” JJ asked. Kie tended to hang out with them when the rest of them were working, or when JJ and Pope got short-term “grounded” by their parents to have family time. JJ had seen them at school, Adelaide with a crew cut and jean jacket in the dead heat, and Opal who was incredibly short. The only word JJ had ever heard Opal say was, “Oh.” He didn’t really understand why they were Kie’s alternative friends. They were all girly and sensitive and sat at this table in the cafeteria every single day collecting signatures for some new cause every week. 

“I’m toughening them up,” Kie explained, “you two are pretty Kildare Intense, I want them to like you, and for you not to have to be fake as shit.” 

Maybe JJ understood why she was friends with them. It was weirder that she chose him and Pope first and foremost. 

Kie was restless, letting an episode of _Diners Drive-Ins and Dives_ go by before asking, “Are we just going to watch TV?” 

It was pouring outside, the rain was so thick it was like the middle of the night in their living room. “Nah, let’s go surfing,” JJ said. 

Kie rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen. JJ heard popcorn in the microwave. “Did Pope tell you he’s working until late?” she called back. 

“Yeah,” JJ yelled. 

She came through the door into the kitchen. “You wanna smoke then TV?” 

JJ loved her a ridiculous amount. 

His and Pope’s house had long since become home base, replacing the Chateau. It was way worse in a ton of ways. They had to be super sneaky about smoking or drinking, and if they were even a little bit non-sneaky, Mrs. Hernandez would call their parents with complete details about the _smell of marijuana_ coming from their backyard. It was a mile from the shore, so getting on the water required effort. 

Their house had a heavy green blanket with a satiny tag with washing symbols that JJ liked to run between his fingers while he watched TV. Their refrigerator hummed constantly, but sometimes it would suddenly rev up like a rocket taking off.

There was always food, and it always felt safe and when Kie said, “C’mon I have my car, let’s go do something,” JJ said, “Yeah, no, we have cable here.” and that was all it took.

JJ's mom never could stay on a TV show for the whole thing. She really liked Cartoon Network and Comedy Central, and she’d flip between them on every commercial break then get frustrated that she’d missed part of each show. JJ didn’t know why that came to mind. He and Kie stayed on the Food Network and never changed the channel. 

Kie didn’t say a word about the weirdness of them spending six hours watching the Food Network, barely moving. She provided a running commentary on the food waste and ethical violations.

“Oh my god!” Kie exclaimed, pointing at the screen where people were haggling for a cart full of groceries in a Kroger parking lot. “Look, he’s making one dish. What happens to the rest of the food in that cart? Does it get donated to a food pantry? No. It probably spoils in the sun. Not to mention the sheer amount of beef--”

JJ spoke for the first time in two hours, “Kie, if you ruin _Supermarket Stakeou_ t for me I’m going to ruin something that is just as important to you.” 

“What is as important to me as _Supermarket Stakeout_ is to you?” 

“I’d pull all the stickers off your laptop.”

“Oh my god, this is _that_ important to you?” 

“Yeah, Kie. _Supermarket Stakeout_ has gotten me through some real tough times.” 

Kie nodded, “So am I being a better or worse partner if I suggest we get off this couch and do new things?” 

JJ paused, considering. “Worse. Pope’s going to be here soon, this is what other American teenagers do, Kie. Rot their brains on TV and social media. We have an unfair advantage, with how rarely we do this. Let’s be normal.” 

“Are you dying?” Kie asked. 

“No,” JJ said. His stupid migraines made jokes about anything related to his body and health got over horribly, he’d just stopped. Which was too bad, because that was a really rich area to draw from. “I’m just tired.” 

“Not to be dramatic but you’ve literally never been tired in the five years of us being best friends.” 

“So I’m due,” JJ snapped. Maybe not snapped. Maybe just said in a pretty pathetic voice. 

Kie sighed “Yep. Fair. Let’s go take a nap. I’m kind of tired too.” 

JJ loved her so much it felt like it might crack the entire world. 

The rain cooled things down, so they could comfortably get in bed and pull the sheet, quilt, _and_ heavy green blanket from downstairs over themselves and be comfortable. Kie usually slept on the outside edge, with Pope in the middle and JJ against the wall, so even after almost a year of this, sleeping just the two of them was something novel with a negotiation process. 

Like that JJ usually slept on his side or stomach, but Kie lay her head on his chest and passed the fuck _out,_ and all JJ could do was wrap his arms around her and stare at the ceiling. 

JJ knew it wasn’t normal for a seventeen-year-old boy to want to be touched gently and feel another person near him as often as possible. He was supposed to be fiercely independent and embarrassed by affection, not seek it out from literally anyone who hadn’t hit him, and even people who had. He knew that Kie and Pope at least would never treat him like a freak for it, and he knew Kie and suggested a nap as much because she knew he needed to feel someone as because they were tired. Maybe more. 

Kie was small and warm and incredibly real and it should have kept him from feeling not there and floating, but it didn’t. Every other time this happened, that JJ felt convinced he wasn’t the one existing right now in his body, in this moment, there was a reason. Even if it was a confusing reason. He was high, or scared, or hurt, or someone was just being too nice and unexpected. It always kind of made sense. This time he just zoned out until he fell asleep. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


JJ’s family was convinced that “tired” meant “dying” or “about to have a migraine everyone hold tight and prepare for JJ to take over the only bathroom to groan on the tile floor.” Mom was constantly feeling his forehead and Heyward watched JJ play with Dr. Felonious Rex for about fifteen minutes, only speaking to quietly encourage or praise his snake, before he said, “Maybe not your head, maybe you’re nauseous?” 

“I’m fine,” JJ promised. Sometimes Heyward would just come upstairs and sit with him for a while, even before he got tired, and JJ didn’t fully understand why, but he didn’t mind Heyward hanging out while JJ handled Dr. FR or watched her eat her mouse in the most intense, gross way possible. 

“Your mama tell you I’m taking you to see Dr. Dennison tomorrow?” 

“I can go by myself,” JJ said. 

“The hell you can.” 

Despite not dying for sixteen wholly unsupervised years, there were things JJ wasn’t _allowed_ to do alone and doctors appointments were at the top of the list. 

“I’ve already seen the headache guy a million times. I won’t get lost. I’ll even send you a selfie or something” JJ argued when he was woken up way early so Heyward could drive them to Greenwood. He woke up abruptly, to Heyward hitting their closed door and yelling, “JJ, doctor,” and maybe the adrenaline of getting up fast to avoid being caught in Pope’s bed was enough to explain why he felt alert and like himself for the first time since the fireworks. 

JJ got ready, then got sent right back upstairs to change out of a muscle shirt and shorts because mainland doctors apparently deserved the respect of an “intact shirt and your church pants. I know better than to argue about your shoes, but _that_ you can do.” 

Mom trusted Heyward only slightly more than JJ to handle seeing the neurologist. She probably debated burning down the hotel to get out of her shift. She got up early just to coach them. 

“Just let me go alone. It’s a seven-hour trip, that’s so much money you’ll lose,” JJ pointed out. 

“My business don’t rely on my working every hour, I have employees,” Heyward said. Not that he looked super excited about spending all day in a car with JJ, just to spend ten minutes with Dr. Dennison. JJ didn’t really get why they were going at all. 

Mom pulled papers out of her JJ folder. “You get to go to doctor appointments alone when you start representing your health accurately. Until then you get your good old parents coming along. If that’s when you’re ninety, then I guess we better start taking our vitamins.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“That means not saying ‘I feel fine, dude’ then throwing up on an ER nurse. If we let you go alone, you’d tell this doctor you have never had a headache in her life.” 

That was--

Okay. Fair enough. 

Mom laid it out. “Here are the ER discharge papers from May and June. I wrote which meds cost too much without Medicaid, don’t let him prescribe them again. JJ needs something proactive that’s covered, and something immediate since Zomig didn’t work last time. But we still want Zomig, make sure he gives you any coupons or samples they have. Here’s a list of everything Medicaid covers in North Carolina, don’t let him prescribe anything not on this list without information about how much it cost.” 

JJ wasn’t an expert on having a neurologist but it would be so much nicer if they didn’t have to drive three hours just to see one. He’d seen Dr. Dennison five times since his concussion, and most of the appointments were total wastes because he kept giving them prescriptions, just JJ to go pick them up at the pharmacy, and finding out Medicaid was like “psych, not it, _you_ pay $1,130 for six pills, bitch.” 

The first month he got pills, everyone was all freaked out because that was when JJ started not being able to see during migraines, which was pretty basic now, but fucking weird then. It was also during winter, when even a $20 pack of pills would have been too much to pay, so when Pope went to pick them up and it was nearly a thousand dollars, he left them there and hurried home, apologetically explaining what happened. 

“It’s fine,” JJ convinced everyone, “seriously, no one is going to die.” 

But six days after the appointment, there was a stack of blister packs of pills stacked on the counter with his name on them. Every single prescription the doctor told them JJ needed. 

When JJ freaked out that they were going to be homeless Mom just said, “You are in a community, no one is going to let you drown,” and Pope told him the no-letting-you-drown people were Ezekiel, Mr. Lewis and Mom’s entire fucking church. 

(“She went up to the mic and said a new family member has a chronic health problem,” Pope said, and JJ said, “Oh fuck, that explains why Azrael asked me if I was dying.” JJ didn’t want other people to know his head was fucked. He didn’t even want himself to know it.) 

It seemed like the more expensive the drugs were, the less they did. Dr. Dennison responded to their issue by just calling in different expensive drugs that Medicaid also hated. They figured out the only one worth paying for was Zomig, and if he needed something else, he’d get it in the ER and that would be free, just super scary and annoying. 

JJ knew that his dad just had to go to a new clinic and groan and he’d get Oxy, with a $2.15 charge from Medicaid. It was fucking biblical, the whole damn thing. 

Mom went on, which meant JJ zoned out and missed a bunch of stuff she said, “If Dr. Dennison says the post-concussive symptoms should have stopped; don't let him be like, ‘Huh weird,’ ask for tests.”

Yeah. JJ definitely wouldn’t have done any of that alone. He glanced at Heyward and saw that he looked a little overwhelmed too. 

Mom noticed. “Do you know what, call me when he comes in and I will do it.” 

“Honey, we can handle one doctor's appointment.” Heyward gathered the paper and put them in an empty folder. “We’re taking the truck, JJ come outside when you fix whatever's happening to your head.” 

JJ got all ready to be offended but he realized all that meant was his bedhead. Mom fixed it for him and asked, “You try not to fight. You’re going to be alone together, you can’t just run out of here.” 

“He told you about that?” 

“You say that like last week was the first time you ever got in a screaming match and ran out of here.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Just because he’s easier to rile up than me don’t mean you get to make it a sport.” 

It was way too fucking early for that. 

There was one upside right away. When they got a more city area they stopped at a McDonald’s which was fucking sweet. Kildare didn’t have one, and there wasn’t one near the ferry so JJ knew every single time in his life he’d had McDonald’s and he’d never had it for breakfast. Heyward went through the drive-thru and ordered two huge coffees and two egg sandwiches and sighed real loud when JJ ordered fries too. 

“Heyward it’s potatoes. It’s not going to break the world if I eat them at six AM.” 

“Smells disgusting.” 

“Oh, are you having a migraine? Should we switch the appointment?” 

Later on, JJ started to fall asleep but Heyward poked him in the shoulder. “Nuh-uh. You stay awake so you know how to get home.” 

“You gonna kick me out?” 

“You’re driving home. I ain’t driving six hours.” 

“Oh.” Heyward had never let him drive his truck before. 

“While I got your attention, anything you’re hiding from us?” 

JJ froze and intently looked out the windshield. “Yeah. Always. Tons of stuff.” 

“About your headaches.” 

“No.” 

“Because you been subdued the last week. We’re getting worried.” 

“I mean, when I have a headache I’ve never been able to hide it.” He tried super hard all the time, but he never could. 

Heyward huffed. “Alright, anything you’re hiding besides the headaches?” 

“Tons of stuff. Always.” 

“Man, I don’t know why you think you can talk to me like one of your friends. I am in charge of you, when I ask you a question it’s so I can take care of you better, not just for the laughs.” 

JJ laughed loudly. “The what?” 

“I don’t even know what to do. I ground you, it does nothing. Do I take your phone away? Your snake?” 

Any humor in this situation got zapped right out. “You can’t take my snake. I’ll run away, for real. Don’t do that.” 

“Jesus. I mean keep her in our room.” 

“You can’t do that, it'd be so stressful for her. I’ll run away, I swear.” 

“And that won’t be stressful?” 

JJ shut up. Mom was wrong. If he needed to, he could jump out of this car at a stoplight and hitchhike back. He could crash with Thad or Yaya, and he made more than enough money to rent some shithole from some shithead who didn’t care how old he was. He could give up this fake family shit for good. 

They went about ten miles in silence. 

“What is so bad that you’d rather keep it a secret and suffer the consequences of it alone than tell me?” Heyward asked. 

“Look, you can beat me if you need to, just don’t take her.” 

Heyward abruptly pulled off the side of the road, onto the narrow breakdown lane. JJ froze. He felt sick. He didn’t expect Heyward to take him up on that, and he didn’t expect it this quickly. 

He hadn’t been hit in so long. JJ didn’t want to get hit, but he offered. Fuck, he was so stupid. JJ reached for his seatbelt but Heyward said, “Don’t. Don’t move.” He listened. 

Heyward gripped the steering wheel and took deep, heaving breaths. Was he gearing up? Was he psyching himself up to do it? JJ flinched when Heyward lifted a hand, but he only brought it to his own face to swipe over his eyes. 

“Are you _crying?”_ JJ asked. Heyward took a deep shuddering breath. He _was crying._

The right thing to do would be to look away. Pretend he didn’t see what was happening so Heyward could stop in privacy, but JJ couldn’t stop looking. Heyward barely moved, barely made a sound, it was like he was trying to pull the feelings back inside myself. JJ jerked away when Heyward dropped his hand. 

“Do you remember,” Heyward asked slowly, “what I said to you the first night you came home?” 

“Don’t get arrested?” JJ was racing to find clues to what was happening. 

“I said I didn’t hit kids. That didn’t change. It ain’t because I got other stuff that works better, but I’m just waiting for the right time. That is core to me, I work at it and if I ever did hurt one of you boys I’d just about take myself off this planet. Understand?”

_Yes. Of course. Yes. Sorry._

Heyward wasn't going to touch him. 

“No,” JJ admitted. 

Heyward sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it more than that. There’s times I’ve thought just smacking one of you in the mouth would shut you up fast, and damn I wanted you to shut up. That’s what I grew up with, that’s the story in my head. But I don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s my job to change the story. Understand?” 

_Yes._

Wanting to destroy, and working hard not to, was something JJ understood. Changing the story was something he understood. 

“Yeah,” JJ said. 

“I will never hit you,” Heyward. “Never. Now I won’t take your snake away because I know that’s worse than hitting for you. But you gotta help me out, stop treating me like some cop trying to give you hell.”

“Okay,” JJ agreed. “Sorry. I’ll try.” 

"I'm going to touch you now," Heyward warned him. JJ nodded and allowed Heyward to touch his face and squeeze his shoulder before he put his hand back on the wheel. 

JJ was so bone dead tired. 

Heyward looked over his shoulder and said they had to get out of the breakdown lane because it was dangerous, and they pulled back on the road and went to the doctor. 

There used to be a clinic on the Cut that wasn’t very far from the laundromat and JJ would walk there with his mom when one of them needed to go. It had toys in the corner, and a big wire maze with blocks you could pull along like cars on a roller coaster and JJ never wanted to leave until he was done working on it, so Mom would come out after her appointment and sit on the ground with him until he was done. 

Dr. Dennison’s office didn't have toys, even though probably some kids had brain injuries. 

Dr. Dennison never acted like JJ was looking for drugs. He made him fill out this form about family history with Mom’s help at the beginning and JJ filled it out correctly because his Mom already knew most of the answers which amounted to his parents being not nice drug addicts. Dr. Dennison read it over impassively. “You’re at very high risk for opioid abuse.” 

Fucking biblical.

“Awesome, I’ve never felt so special,” JJ said. 

“I’m not going to give them to you,” he said. 

Which was totally fine. JJ wasn’t looking for vikes or oxys. He didn’t even want aspirin, it took a lot of research from Pope and convincing from Mom that the anticonvulsants and migraine meds he was supposed to take wouldn’t make him into a junkie. It wasn’t exactly a life goal, so Dr. Dennison letting go and never talking about narcotics again made seeing him almost bearable. 

Dr. Dennison took the packet Mom printed with the list of all the medications Medicaid didn’t cover and blankly read it, then came up with a new list of drugs. He was pretty annoyed about how sporadically JJ took the ones he was supposed to take every morning, and how long he waited to take the ones that were supposed to stop a migraine. 

“I don’t want to be reliant on it,” JJ said. 

“The medication your ER gives you causes rebound headaches, so they create more problems with reliance. You’re almost an adult, you need to be much more on top of your med management, practice now while your--” Dr. Dennison looked over at Heyward. 

“Mom and Dad,” Heyward supplied, a little forcefully. 

“Mom and Dad can look out for you.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“I’m really tired,” JJ told Heyward. They were almost home, they’d gone over the bridge and just had about twenty minutes driving down the 12 to get to Kildare. 

“Why’re you tired?” 

JJ didn’t know why he was tired, but he found himself telling Heyward about how much it hurt to make the timeline spelling out when his mom was gone, and how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, when he was able to think at all. 

“You’re sad,” Heyward said plainly. 

“What?” 

“You’re not tired, you’re sad.” 

“I haven’t cried,” JJ said. 

JJ looked back on the last week. He spent a lot of time in bed, even when Kie and Pope were doing other things, and he couldn’t stop thinking about stuff and couldn’t stop floating away. That was tired stuff. 

Was that tired stuff? Or was it sad stuff? 

“I don’t think I’ve been sad before,” JJ said, even though he knew it was a crazy stupid thing to say. 

They crossed over the last bridge onto Kildare, just a few minutes from home. 

“I was sad a long time after me and your Mama got our house. Never had a place to be settled, eventually, I realized it was because I didn’t have the time to be sad before, I was so focused on surviving. You been doing that a long time too, maybe you trust your mama and me to keep you safe now, so you can be sad.” 

Maybe the explosion was a dam breaking and years of water that’d been beating against the walls could finally rush out. JJ pulled over, even though they were barely a mile from home but JJ had to stop because he felt--

He felt everything. 

“Can you drive home?” 

Heyward reached across the truck and turned off the engine. “Yeah, yeah. I got you.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song title from Exegetic Chains by tMG. I've been dying to use this line: "Stay warm inside the ripple of a Panasonic Hum" since starting this series. 
> 
> JJ Maybank canonically doesn't know what cassettes are (and who could blame him) but I do and this entire chapter has the comforting white noise hum of one over the whole thing. 
> 
> Really looking forward to hearing what you think of this one <3


	6. Find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to. Don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light.

JJ and Heyward got back from the doctor at two in the afternoon, so almost the entire day was left for the taking. Sometimes JJ didn’t even wake up until two, but this day should be over already. Too much had already happened 

It felt like there was a giant storm between his ears, category one level hurricane, the kind that might knock out the electricity in his brain, or maybe the entire part of it that knew how to do math. 

But when Heyward parked the truck and said, “Why don’t you come work with me?” 

JJ said, “Do you really want me to help you?” Like he was just a normal person. He was surprised his voice sounded just like normal. Heyward considered. He was real upfront about exactly how unhelpful JJ was at the store, he’d have to be fucking terrified that JJ was about to burn down the world to ask for his help. 

JJ had to let him off the hook. Whatever was happening, he didn’t want to deal with it while cleaning shrimp. 

“I’m seriously okay. I hate Dr. Dennison. That’s all. I was just tired.” 

Heyward looked up at the house, his hand hovering over the keys in the ignition. JJ could feel him debating coming inside, or letting JJ out and going straight to work. “Your mama would wanna talk to you about being sad.” 

He’d reached the end of his ability to deal with JJ having feelings. JJ was deeply sympathetic. He jumped out of the truck. 

“I’ll tell her. Don’t worry. I’m just going to find your son and get up to some barely noteworthy teenage stuff. It’s fine.” 

“Drop off your prescriptions.” 

“Yep.” 

That was enough for Heyward to finally leave. JJ watched him drive off and marveled at the paradox that he was standing still, in one piece, while every single possible thing he’d ever felt was happening at one point. 

JJ knew exactly how to fix that. 

Almost like his brain was a simple animal trying to outrun a tranquilizer, the minute he started looking for an already rolled blunt his brain sped the fuck up. 

_ You’re a fucking junkie just _

_ \--go cry about it you _

_ \--if Kie was here she’d _

_ \--no wonder everyone fucking lea _

Half ideas that sprung up, just to get overrun with other, louder thoughts he didn't know how to touch. He found a blunt with Indica, good shit his cousin Esther got from a dispensary. No offense to her spine, but Esther getting in a car crash was the best thing that ever happened to his family. JJ lit it and barely remembered to open the window and turn on a fan after he started. 

Mom was wrong for being worried that JJ was going to end up some pill-popping meth head just because of a little herbal relief. JJ knew for a fact that if everyone's brain worked like his, the world would constantly be on fire. JJ's mind ran a thousand words and images flickering by in seconds with no periods or commas in between. All he was trying to do was slow it down, get on everyone else's level. 

His first parents did drugs to leave. 

JJ felt okay before he finished his blunt, so he stubbed and stashed it. See? Not a junkie. A junkie would have smoked the whole damn thing, knocked back the closest beer, emptied their son’s bottle of Adderall, and somehow still pass the fuck out. 

Dr. Felonious Rex didn’t always want to be handled, and JJ tried not to be an asshole, so he was bone-deep relieved that when he picked her up, she slithered easily over his arms and seemed to get that he just needed to hang out. 

“I bet if you were a person, you’d be like, chill, but also like, ‘you’re all idiots’ about everyone. Everyone.” Dr. FR moved in a way that suggested that she very much agreed. 

“Wanna come on the water with me?” JJ asked. She tilted her head and slithered close to his face. “Maybe you’re the world’s best surfer. Maybe I’m holding you back, keeping you in this tank.” 

Dr. FR turned over his hand and moved down his arm, “ _ No, let me go home now, please.”  _ JJ put her back on her favorite branch and closed her tank. 

JJ shot off texts to Kie and Pope and found out they were at Kie's house ready to take the HMS Pogues on the water. JJ called Pope. 

"Come get me on H's dock," he asked. 

"Uh, technically I'm supposed to be helping him now that he's back. I'm pretending I didn't get his texts because I was on the water."

JJ smiled. "I'm so proud of you right now.” They came up with a new meeting spot and in no time, JJ was on the water with a beer and his favorite people. 

Kie lay out on the boat and said, “They started work on that subdivision over literally sacred ground. We should schedule a time to go gently vandalize their site.” 

“Tonight?” JJ suggested, “Yeah, tonight. I seriously don’t just wanna lie around, I wanna do something.” 

Pope sat up from where he was lying on the port. “No, not tonight. Because guess who’s having a party?” Pope said. He held his arms up and waited for their full attention. “Micah Walters. Micah Fucking Walters is having a party.” 

Then everything was totally, fully, fine. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Okay. So everyone who had parties more than once had the same things happen at their parties. Like, brands. 

There was always a fight at Yaya’s parties. Sometimes there were two at once. There was lots of booze, lots of weird kinds, not just beer, and the music was always pretty good. 

Aiden lived with his sister and he started having parties before anyone else. They were wall to mall music so loud your pulse got on board and they must have invited the entire neighborhood because the cops never came. There was no chill, no conversation, but it was like being inside a beating heart for a few hours. 

John B’s parties had a short guest list, and anyone new got vetted, even if they were handed drinks and brought in on jokes. The TV was on, the windows were open, someone was always talking and they stayed up until right before the sun came up and someone, Pope, said, “We should maybe get some sleep.” 

The last party ended as the sun was coming up three days before Agatha. Pope brought Emory McHenry, but JJ slept with her even though he didn’t want to. Just because he could and he was a fucking asshole then. And still was. 

John B was in a great mood that morning. He was always in such a fucking good mood. Emory left and was like, “See you soon?” and JJ said, “Yeah, small island,” then walked down to find John B lying in the hammock. 

“Nice night,” John B said. 

“Really good,” JJ agreed. 

At one point Kie was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table trying to read some kind of witch cards or something, but she kept switching into Spanish they say, “Wait, hold on, I need to tell which one of you assholes are going to jail first.” Pope was mad that JJ intercepted him getting with Emory, but he still shared the truly delicious baked cracker, cheese and hotdog creation he made at three in the morning. 

“Now if I could make every day of the summer be like that, we would have the best summer ever,” John B said. 

“Yeah, get on that.” John B gave a thumbs up then closed his eyes, JJ hit his foot to get his attention. “Yo, Petie’s got some work helping some Tourons move out of their dream house. Bed bugs are too much for them to bear. You in?” 

John B squinted in the sun and shook his head. JJ pushed the hammock, hard, and John B laughed and easily swung his feet to the ground, stopping the rocking. 

“Can’t. Remember Cheryl, the stormtrooper social worker? I need to go tell her how safe and happy I am with Uncle T.” 

He said it like it was meeting with a stupid teacher. “You ready for that man?” JJ checked. 

John B shrugged. “Yeah. Duh. If I’m not bruised or begging for food, they’ll send me straight home and move on.” 

JJ rolled his eyes, “You’re stupid. They’ve got quotas, you gotta be ready, they’re fucking ninjas.” 

John B got up and put his hands on JJ’s shoulders. “Dude, it’s cool. I’ll be back in a few hours. And it’s not going to matter. My dad’s going to be home any day now.” 

Jesus Christ. A party at John B’s meant pretending not to think that he was fucking insane for thinking his dad was still alive after being gone for a year. A year. 

More than a year. More than a year meant he was fucking dead. 

That was another story entirely. 

That was John B’s parties. Micah Walter’s parties were so fucking awesome. 

They all knew Micah. Micah was two years older. He was an awesome surfer and he bought them beer with his fake for a year without a cover charge. He was also smart as hell, and teachers called Pope “Micah” all the time because, as Pope said, “College and television have taught them only one smart Black kid can exist at a time.” 

Micah didn’t throw parties that often, he was trying to make good, taking online courses from the community college and working the snack stand in the county building like that was two steps away from a senate seat. But he went rogue about once a year and it was the place to be. People did acid in his bedroom, there was usually karaoke which meant there was always girls and usually there were so many damn snacks that there was never any point in leaving. Micah had to hardcore kick people out because the party was so good and no one ever wanted to leave. 

They stopped at home to pick up party favors from JJ’s stash, and leave Sunday Sunday Sunday, the car, at home. Micah’s was a short walk away on a side street that no one drove down because it got covered in brush after every storm and never got clear. Pope ran inside to grab the party favors, and check if their parents were around, and if they were the kind of around to care that they almost definitely wouldn’t come home that night. 

Pope out and said, “Mom’s home, told her we were spending the night at Kie’s.” 

“That is a terrible lie,” Kie said. 

“Yeah, we really need to develop another friend we can potentially sleep over at,” JJ said, “John C.” 

“That’s not funny,” Kie said, then started walking. Micah Walters didn’t live far, in a house that was a double-wide first and was now a complete maze of add ons and half-finished rooms. 

“I hope John B knows how inconvenient it is for us to not replace him,” JJ said. 

“Not  _ funny,”  _ Kie repeated. 

“What he’s not--” Pope looked around dramatically, “you know he’s not really dead right?” 

“He is gone, it’s not funny to joke about it,” she said, then walked ahead fast. 

Pope slowed down and said as quietly as he could, “I think she might be about to have her period.” 

“On her period,” JJ corrected. 

“No, about to have it. The P in PMS is ‘pre.’”

“No it’s not.” 

“Yes, it is JJ. You don’t know anything about women.” 

Kie yelled back, “Hey, there is a woman  _ right near you,  _ who knows a lot more than you two idiots.” She stopped and waited for them to catch up then held her hands up expectantly. 

“Sorry,” they said at the same time. 

“I might be PMSing, I kind of lost track. I  _ am  _ upset because it’s the anniversary of Agatha, if you hadn’t noticed. That’s when it all started and it kind of sucked so I’m sad.” 

“It is sad,” JJ agreed. They looked at him quick. Kie talking about feelings and stuff was pretty normal. JJ doing that wasn't. “What? Let’s go.” 

Micah’s party was exactly the best thing that could happen that day. Someone hotboxed a room with no windows, and JJ came out of it breathing deep and even. He crashed next to Pope on a couch and the ridges of the corduroy pillow and Pope’s smooth soft skin. 

“I love you,” he told Pope. 

Pope glanced around and slapped JJ’s knee. Super hetero for the crowded room of semi-friends. “Yeah, love you too.” 

“You get into anything?"

“Keeping the signal clear.” 

“Dude. Why.” 

“You and Kie have something going on, just playing DD I guess.” 

“I love you,” JJ repeated. 

“I love you too.” JJ shifted and saw that Pope was holding an open textbook with a picture of a little Asian kid with his face painted. “What’s that?” 

“This is Micah’s Cultural Anthropology book. He’s letting me borrow it. His Political Science book too.” Pope turned the page slowly, then went back to the page with the photo. He glanced at JJ then looked back. “I don’t understand any of it.” 

“What, like when I don’t understand school, or when you don’t and just need another minute.” 

Pope didn’t say anything. He’d probably never not understood something the way JJ did. His brain was exploding. “Dude, you haven’t taken this class. Of course you don’t get it. You’re missing like, classes with the teacher explaining it.”

“In college, you’re supposed to just get it,” Pope said, “this is a book from community college. What am I thinking, trying to go to UNC?” 

JJ grabbed his face. “Dude. It’s the middle of the night and you are trying to read a textbook in the middle of a fucking rager. You found the greatest treasure in the Atlantic with just us for help. You’re going to be fine.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about college.” 

JJ bopped Pope on the nose. “Neither do you, asshole.” That didn't cheer Pope up at all. “Dude, let’s just go to UNC. John B went, he said it’s like another planet. Have you been there before?” 

“No,” Pope admitted. 

He was rallying so hard for someone extremely high, but Pope was very important. “Bro, we’ll just go. You’ll see how you’re supposed to be there.” 

Pope thought. “Maybe.” 

“Definitely. Tell Kie, I’ll forget.” 

Someone turned on Micah’s TV, and it caught JJ’s interest. He looked around the room at people with water and grease and dirt on their skin while they laughed and drank. He tried to imagine that this might be what parties would look like when him and Pope got an apartment in Chapel Hill. Maybe--

JJ could almost picture a different future. They’d see it clearer when they went to Chapel Hill to find it. 

Later on, the party cleared out, but they didn’t leave. Micah said, “Ugh, fine, you kids can stay,” and he fell asleep on the floor with Kie. Pope woke him up with a foot on his face, after what felt like twenty minutes of sleep. 

“Work,” Pope said, squinting as the morning sun broke through the blinds 

They all got up and left. JJ had about twenty minutes to get home, get dressed, and get to the hotel. There was no way he wouldn’t be late, so he took his damn time. Pope and Kie did too. 

“I’m so tired,” Kie said, yawning all along. 

“Me too,” JJ said. He was both kinds of tired, tired from not sleeping really, but the sad was still on the edges. It joined the feeling that he was always thirty seconds from exploding, now he was also thirty seconds from getting all bogged down in sad feels. So annoying. 

He hadn’t told them about how he wasn’t tired. Or that he was actually sad. 

“Did I tell you I haven’t seen my mom since I was eleven? Haven’t heard anything from her either.” 

They stopped, turning around sharply . “I didn’t know it’d been that long,” Kie said. 

"Me neither," Pope said, "why didn't you tell us that?" 

More than a year. More than a year meant she was fucking dead. 

No. Fuck. Not that story. 

Mom was different than Big John. Tougher. She always came back. It’d just been a long time. She couldn’t be dead. 

He was JJ fucking Maybank. If he had to feel sad, he could do something about it. 

“Would you guys help me with something?” 

Pope grit his teeth and looked over his shoulder for a monster. “With what?” 

“I help you all the time,” JJ said. “I’m still studying with you and it’s  _ summer.”  _

Pope groaned. “This is not making me less nervous. What is it?” 

“I want to find my mom,” JJ said, “and you have to help me because you love me.” 

Kie and Pope were silent, so JJ had no choice but to elaborate. “Look, no one is going to speed after us with guns or--or kill anyone and frame us for it. Okay? If we can find the Royal Merchant we can find one methhead.” 

“Yeah, of course, we’re a team. We’ll help. But, like--why?” Pope worked to get out. 

JJ didn’t know the answer to that at all. He just had to fake it, it seemed important to know. 

“Not because of anything that’s happening now, or anything. I don’t want her, like, approval. I still want to get adopted, it’s not like any version of her alive could be my mom for real. I just want to see her, maybe talk to her a few minutes.” 

Kie nodded. “Okay. Cool. We can totally do this. Not to be uptight but we have to end up in a police station at least a third as often as last year.” 

“I love you,” JJ told her. He looked pointedly at Pope. 

“What, I’m going to do it, I just needed to be clear on why. Are our parents helping?” 

Their parents were really busy. 

Sometimes they were so busy and moved so fast that it was hard to keep up with what they did, even massively important things. Like when Corrine came to visit at the end of the school year and she said that as far as DCS was concerned, Dad wasn’t going to be in his life anymore, and that if JJ was younger they’d terminate dad’s rights so he could someday get adopted, but she said, “but we don’t worry about that at his age.” 

And Heyward said, “I think we might wanna worry about that.”

And just all of the sudden they started talking about this not being JJ staying with Pope’s parents so his dad doesn’t kill him, this was JJ being legally, adoptively part of this family. Pope was there. Mom was there. And all of the sudden, JJ getting adopted became what was happening. 

It was weird but probably nice. Corrine just looked between them and stumbled to explain how it took forever but was probably possible. She seemed about as confused as JJ. 

“I’ll ask my boss what she thinks, but it seems to me like adoption’s possible?” Corrine said while Mom and Heyward slowly walked her toward the front door. 

“That’s great, call me please?” Mom said. 

“I will! This is all really nice. Most of my caseload is kids who hate their foster parents. It’s nice to see it goes well,” she said. 

Mom walked her through the door. “We think so too, call me please Corrine, we’ll see you in a month.” 

By the way, she totally came back two weeks later, less sunny faced, and told them that adopting him would be as complicated as taking over a small country, but JJ already told that story. 

This story was that right after Corrine left, JJ didn't really know what was going to happen. 

Mom closed the door behind Corrine and looked at JJ. “You want to be adopted, right?” she asked. 

It felt like a really weird dream, like a fantasy JJ used to have with John B and Big John, an old one he’d force himself not to stay in too long.

He didn't get to answer this question in his brain. “Yeah, fuck--oh _ sorry _ \--of course. Please. Sorry. Yes.” 

JJ felt like he had to say yes in more ways but Mom looked at Pope and Heyward. “Any objections?” 

“It was my idea,” Heyward said, and Pope said, “Cool, yeah.” 

Then they just...moved on with their days. 

For like two hours. 

“I seriously can’t suddenly want to fuck you,” JJ told Pope when they were in their room, “It’d be full-on incest. Because we’ll be brothers. ” 

“Yeah, no offense I love you a lot, but I never wanted to fuck you, don’t worry,” Pope said. 

“Dude, fuck you!” 

“You don’t wanna fuck  _ me, _ JJ.” 

“But I don’t wanna fuck anyone. You could want to. I am very attractive. Is my personality? No, that’s perfect. Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Fuck you really hurt my feelings, Pope.” 

There were other things to talk about. 

Like when they had dinner all together a little later and Pope made fun of white people, and by extension JJ, for “Your dead, sad taste buds, ‘Not too much pepper don’t wanna make it spicy.’”

“It’s okay that I’m white, right?” JJ asked. Because white people were a lot worse than being bland as hell. White people made it hard for his family to even be alive, even JJ, even when he didn’t mean to. He was intruding, and he wasn't even an easy person to be around. “Like, if you adopt me?” 

Pope clapped him on the shoulder. “Not really. Be better if you could change that.” 

“Hold on,” Mom said, she picked up a piece of his blonde straight hair and gasped. “Have you been white this whole time? Oh no. What will we tell my family? My church? They had no idea we were taking care of a white boy. If they knew...damn. Well sorry JJ, time to hit the road.” 

“Seriously,” JJ said. 

“Seriously,” Heyward said, “It does matter, but it ain’t mean this can’t happen. You can’t just think you’re done listening and undoing all the little Maybank whiteness, this don’t give you a special pass, ‘Oh I can say whatever I want, I got a Black family.’” 

“Yeah, duh,” JJ said. “So are you gonna, like, tell people I’m your kid?” 

“We already do,” Mom said. 

_ Oh.  _

Mom went on,  _ “ _ We won’t pretend we found you in the reeds or anything, we know you still belong to your birth family too.” 

Fuck. The Maybanks wouldn’t be nearly as fucking chill about this, at least the ones he still talked to. Dad would--

No. Other story. 

“Do you want me to change my last name?” 

His parents looked at each other. They hadn’t talked about this. Mom slowly said, “Well, you say, ‘I’m a Maybank,’ pretty often, though it’s usually to explain some stupidity. It seems important to you. Don’t see how you’d have to change your name.”

JJ felt his entire body freeze, “You don’t want me to?” 

He couldn’t imagine being  _ JJ Heyward.  _ Like he was born in this family, no trace of any other family before it. Just the idea was crazy weird. But if they didn’t  _ want _ JJ to have their name, then maybe--

“‘Course we do,” Heyward said, “I like the sound of it. Use a different name to justify your shit. Why did you do your homework? Why did you give it 110 at work? Why did you get good grades? ‘ _ I’m a Heyward _ .’” 

“Can’t JJ have both names? Like celebrities. Maybank Heyward,” Pope suggested.

“Heyward Maybank,” JJ corrected like he’d been thinking that all along. As soon as he said it it sounded so fucking good, like it was sent from the future. 

Everyone liked that name too. “This town ain’t ready for a Heyward Maybank,” Heyward said proudly. 

Pope and JJ had somewhere to be after, but it was JJ's turn to do dishes and it seemed like a bad night to break rules, especially because when Pope went upstairs and he was alone in the kitchen with the parents, Mom said, “Honey, did we spring something on you that you didn’t want? You’ll still be in our lives forever, even if we don’t have a piece of paper saying you’re ours.” 

“ _ No _ ,” JJ said fast, “no. Yes. I want this.” 

Heyward looked at Mom and nodded, and he saw them both relax a little. Heyward said, "We ain't happy your parents can't be in your life, but we're real glad you can be in ours."

JJ didn't even know what to say to that.

He knew that DCS was asking all about Mom so they could kill her parental rights. It was a legal thing, it was necessary to get adopted, which he wanted. JJ understood that. He really did. It just sucked. It wasn’t supposed to mean she got written out like she was just dead, gone from the planet. 

This wasn’t about them. 

“No,” JJ decided, “our parents shouldn’t have to worry about this. Seems kind of mean.” 

Pope nodded. “Yeah. I’d say we have an extremely good track record. Let’s get it done” 

“For real?” JJ asked, feeling himself move further away from feeling tired and closer to himself. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll do it.” 

“Cool,” Kie said, “this summer was getting pretty basic. Let’s start right away.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Amky AKA Spent Gladiator 1. FINALLY I get to use this song. 
> 
> This is kind of a note that should have been on the last chapter: Trauma physically alters your brain. Some people who have complex trauma often have an extremely hard time identifying feelings, or understanding their internal experience. That's why JJ just figuring out he's sad is a 3 chapter arc. 
> 
> I was just completely blown away at the response to the last chapter. I've been writing fic over ten years and I've never been blessed with readers this generous and awesome. Thank you so much, I really look forward to hearing what you think!


	7. We may throw the windows open later, but we are not as far west as you suppose we are

Monday shifts always _sucked._

JJ started picking up hours on Saturday after the whole therapy business started, but by Saturday he’d been riding on this marathon energy from the week and could drive to the hotel straight from the Boneyard, grab a cleanish uniform from his trunk, wash his face, and get killer tips on the brunch shift. 

But he basically never worked Sunday and it was always that it was a really chill day, usually hanging around home, usually with Pope and Kie, usually he’d be able to spend a couple hours with Mom, usually see Heyward before he and Pope headed out to get _something_ done before the day ended, and usually that all went so well that it made waking up fuck early, and pretending to be a normal person for money extra painful. 

JJ got to the hotel a few minutes early which was exceedingly rare and annoying because it meant he was in this bourgeoisie nightmare before seven in the morning and was not being compensated. He sat on the back dock vaping and scrolling through insta when his phone buzzed. 

He answered without reading the name, “Yo?” 

“JJ, this is Gweneth, kind of your aunt?” 

“Hi,” he said, kind of amused that she was acting like she hadn’t called him like two times that week, “this is JJ, kind of your nephew.” 

“Oh great, okay, listen, can you pick up Aster from camp today? I know it’s not Thursday but I got a last-minute private class, and I really need to take it.” 

Of course he could, he wasn’t going to let Aster not get picked up. “Yeah, duh. I mean yes.”

“Just until four. But please, do not give her sour candy.” 

“Okay.” God, Aster was so bad at lying, he told her that her mom didn’t want her having Sour Patch Kids. 

“And don’t buy her Pokemon cards.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because then Gemma doesn't have Pokemon cards. We don't need to deal with that.” 

“I’ll buy her some too--” 

“JJ, please just pick up Aster and take her to a beach and don’t buy her anything.” 

“I’m not going to let her be hungry."

He could hear Gweneth expiring over the phone. “God--if she is hungry, yes. I can ask her babysitter if you can't.”

“No, I’m going to do it. Sorry. I’ll do it, I won’t buy her candy. Oh, can I take her to Kiara Carrera’s house? She’s been there before, remember--” 

“Yes, that’s fine, yes, take her there, buy her food, not Pokemon cards, not candy, call me if there’s a problem, don’t forget to sign her out, yes?” 

Holy shit it was way too early for that, but JJ agreed and started his shift. 

Which was actually okay. He had a table that was in and out in twenty minutes and JJ barely talked to them but they left a hundred on a twenty-dollar bill which totally made up for the lady with blue streaks in her hair that she was way too proud of had a meltdown because she didn’t know that Gouda wasn’t dairy-free and JJ was super nice and super understanding and gave her super wrong directions to the charter she was going to after this which was not enough because she tipped like 4.3%. 

JJ went downstairs to Mom’s office and hung out until she got there and found him outside the locked door. 

“Oh, hi,” Mom said, handing him her bag while she fished her keys out of it and unlocked the door. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, just wanted to wait for you,” JJ said, following her in. 

“That’s very sweet.” 

Mom took her purse back and unlocked the desk drawer she stored it in. Her office was downstairs in the middle of this mega industrial area of the hotel where pipes banged and hissed, and half of her office got taken up with surplus storage for housekeeping, but the other half had a computer and a desk, and the official plan if JJ got a migraine at work was to come down here and lie on her office floor and hope it passed fast. Which the bleach smell and banging pipes would definitely help with. 

“How long are you working?” he asked. 

Mom looked at the big schedule she kept on the wall. “Dinner,” she said, but she said it like she was totally guessing because she was. Mom’s maids were flaky as hell. “Then I’m helping Grand Mary with groceries. Is there something you want to do when I finish?”

That was a weird question. “Uh, maybe. Can you order some mice for Dr. FR? Like, right now? I also need new shoelaces and a charger. I have the money.” 

“Sure,” Mom said, pulling out her phone, “But I’m starting to get some weird ads on Amazon, sweetie. When are you going to start doing this on your own?” 

JJ shrugged. “When Amazon starts taking cold hard cash.” 

Mom laughed. “I saw a commercial for some app where you give your kids little junior credit cards to teach money management. Should we do that for you?” 

“Oh yeah, do that,” JJ said. He reached in his back pocket and found a hundred in his tips and handed it over to Mom’s shocked face. JJ looked down at the wad of cash and barely had time to question the immediate, powerful instinct to hide it. “I put what I’m supposed to in the winter fund, I swear,” tumbled out. 

“How much are you making?” Mom asked.

Mom was not asking so she could take all his money, but if she did want all his money JJ would give it to her, even if he was kind of mad that she would even fucking do that, it was his money and just because she wasn’t punching him in the face and rifling through his clothes while he was down for cash didn’t mean it was okay that she was--

“I am not asking so I steal it from you,” Mom said, like she’d read his mind. 

“Sorry. I know,” JJ said, “Uh, kind of a lot. I don’t really know what to do with it.” 

Mom looked at his cash, and JJ hurriedly stuffed it in his back pocket. “You save it is what you do. You boys have a big move coming up. There’s too much cash floating around our house,” Mom decided, “We have to get you a card, or something to put it on.” 

“Why?” 

“For one, so I stop getting ads for frozen rats. And I could spend two seconds in your room and find your little shoebox bank. What if someone broke into our house? You’re working too hard for your money to get stolen.” 

Oh. 

“Okay. Cool. I can put more money in the winter fund though.” 

“Nope, not your job. We need to get both your money more secure, there’s plenty of people who might think it’s a good idea to rob us. Your dad might. You know that.” 

“Yeah.”

JJ could be mad, but she was right. If Dad figured out that JJ had a swank job like this, he wouldn’t hesitate to break in and search for cash. Fuck, JJ wasn’t much better himself, not that what Dad did to him was anything like JJ stealething from Barry. None of this was the same as any of that. 

Nothing was the same at all and mostly it was good.

Like that it had never been JJ’s job to look out for a kid, like that even his Maybank cousins never got pawned on him, but after that fucking conversation he went to pick Aster from STEM camp because his kind of aunt _asked him to._

The camp was at JJ’s elementary school--no _Aster’s_ school because she went there now, and he’d picked her up half a dozen times now, so JJ knew that this camp had the kids play on the playground and he was supposed to go talk to one of the stupid counselors, not just take her. 

The playground at the elementary school got redone when JJ was in fifth grade. It used to be all metal, and monkey bars that stood alone where the highest spot you could climb, and JJ used to climb on top and walk across them. 

One time--maybe more than once--JJ didn’t want to go back inside after recess, but he didn’t want to go home either, so he stayed standing balanced standing on top of the bars and his teacher yelled at him and JJ yelled, “Come and get me you fat dyke bitch!” Eventually everyone else went inside and JJ stayed standing, not sure how to get down now or where to go. 

He only got down when Ms. Velasquez came out, because she’d let him stay in her office until the day ended, and she had snacks and good crayons and she always let him go home even though no one came to pick him up. 

“Is your Mom home right now?” Ms. Velasquez asked. 

“Yeah, duh,” JJ said, picking the Chex Mix dust out of the second bag she gave him. “She’s making me a cake, with green frosting.” 

“That’s great! Did she tell you who is picking you up from school?” 

JJ wasn’t dumb. He knew his parents didn’t answer but Mom never answered her phone when she wasn’t at home and she hadn’t been for a few weeks and JJ was just stupid glad Dad didn’t answer when Ms. V called.

“Big John can come get me,” JJ said, liking the idea as soon as he said it. “Yeah, he can come get me because he doesn’t have a job so he can.” 

“John Routledge’s father? I think we can arrange that.” 

When Big John came, JJ ran out of the office and went to get his backpack from the third-grade cubbies. He came back so quiet that Ms. V and Big John didn’t hear him stop outside the door and hear them. 

“Do you know if his mother is coming back?” 

“Oh sure, she always comes back, she’s just got business on the mainland. Don’t worry, JJ’s just a hyper kid, nothing to look twice at, promise that.” 

“Just get a better number for Luke if he has one. They at the same place?” 

“Who's going anywhere? Don’t worry, I’ll take the kid, let him run around, talk to his Daddy too. He’ll be fine in the morning.” 

John B had no idea he had the best, coolest dad ever.

They sat in the car across the street from the school, listening to the radio until John B came out of school. JJ watched Big John shuffle through papers in a big envelope, and JJ looked at his school papers too, and stuck his tongue under his lip and pretended it was chew and he was just like Big John. 

Big John noticed and started laughing so JJ stuck his tongue out at him and put his stuff back in his backpack. 

“Why’d you make such a fuss, huh?” Big John asked. “Refuse to go in?” 

“Spelling test,” JJ admitted. 

“Didn’t study?” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

That’s when Big John explained how to look at other kids tests without _looking_ like you were looking, and how to write on your hand and make a little paper with answers written on it and put it up your sleeve, and in the end that day JJ refused to get off the monkey bars, and Big John picking him up and explaining school was the only reason JJ wasn’t held back so much he still went to this stupid school. 

But anyway. That wasn’t now. 

Now was that the playground Aster played on until he picked her up was totally different but Aster would never climb on top and refuse to get down, she fucking bolted at him whenever JJ got past the fence to pick her up. 

“I made a pulley,” she told him, giving him a quick hug but pulling away to take a toy like contraption with a pulley out of her backpack. 

“Holy smoke, Dr. Aster Wakefield over her stunning everyone,” JJ crowed. 

Aster was eight, same age as the monkey bar incident, but already so much fucking smarter. She grinned and put it back in her backpack. “You have-ta sign me out, because remember when they got mad last time.” 

“I sure do,” JJ said, tossing her his keys. “Go get your booster out of my trunk, then pull the car around.” 

Aster squealed and ran to his car, JJ had no doubt he’d find her in the driver's seat pretending to drive when he got done with the college fucks who ran this camp. 

JJ knew all their names because Aster talked about them like they were superheroes, not a bunch of dumbasses from Duke and UNC who came for a free vacation out of teaching the shockingly poor kids on the banks to fill their do-gooder souls. Same as the assholes who came through when JJ was a kid. 

A few weeks ago, some of them made it to the Boneyard. JJ took in their lanyards and Keds and grinned wide, “Oh fuck, ain’t you here to teach us dumbasses how to be decent? Ah, nah, you can’t be around here.” 

Kie and Aiden helped JJ talk at them until they fucking left. Didn’t ask why, didn’t have any need to. 

One of the party crashers was this Instagram looking bitch with a name tag that said “Kiersey,” and when he walked up to the sign out table she clocked JJ right away as the local who forced them out of a party. She looked down and handed over the sign out clipboard. 

“How was today, inspirational for you?” JJ asked. 

She paused. “Sure, every day is.” 

“Neato,” JJ said, handing back the clipboard. “See you around, fellow local.” 

Aster scrambled into the single back seat and onto her booster before JJ had to say anything. He started the car. “What do you think, should we sit in this car and wait till your Mom finishes work, totally silent, not a word, or should we go to the movie theater house?” 

“The _movie theater house?”_ Aster asked gleefully.

JJ started driving to Kie’s house. “Yeah I guess, but I don’t know, I’d rather just sit around and count flies.” 

“You’re dumb,” Aster informed him, “we have to go to the movie theater house.” 

“Man, fine, okay, have it your way,” JJ said, pretending to be all put out. 

Aster got set up in the legit movie theater type room in Kie’s basement, and they sat in the open room next to it, with a literal bar, pool table, and leather chairs. 

Pope pulled out all the pool balls and lined them up in the triangle thingy. “Why do Kooks crash our shit but we can’t crash theirs? My god, why do y’all leave your houses.” 

“Choosing not to take that personally,” Kie said. 

“We gotta work on your parents liking us more. Spend all our time in our tiny house when we could be here.” 

Kie followed JJ behind the bar and pulled him away. “First, my dad marks the bottles. Don’t. Second, we're here now. Come sit down and listen to my plan.” 

Begrudgingly, JJ sat in one of the loud leather chairs, and Kie settled on the arm of it and put her laptop on his lap. Pope came in on the other side, leaning over. She pulled up an honest to god powerpoint and opened a slide with bullet points. 

“Oh nice, is this your plan to help find your non-illiterate boyfriends’ mom?” 

“I’m going to read it out, shut up, this is for me,” Kie said, settling more of her weight on his side. “Okay, so we have to talk about the big W’s, who, where, when, why. And you have to actually participate in this and not get mad at us, because guess what, we’re helping you.” 

Here’s what W’s were, and JJ didn’t get mad, partly because even though Pope was Aster’s cousin too, JJ was actually responsible for her right now, bizarrely, and she wasn’t going to hear him get upset through the wood door to the home theater. 

Who. 

Lulu Maybank. Louisa Maybank. Probably 36, because JJ’s now-mom was 38, and she’d said a few times that she was two years older than his first-mom. Her maiden name was Campbell. 

“Not to get ahead of things,” Pope said, “But it seems like talking to her family would be a good place to start?” 

“I guess,” JJ said, “Don’t really know her family though.” 

“I don’t know any Campbells,” Kie said. 

JJ didn’t either. He didn’t know a single one. “But could be it’s her dad’s name or something?” Pope suggested, “And he’s just not here, so he’s the only one, but she’s got her mom’s whole family.” 

“I can ask my aunt Mimi,” JJ decided, “she’s the only one who wasn’t mean as hell to my mom.” 

What.

They argued for a while about how “what” applied to this mission, and it started getting a little too amped until Pope said, “Let’s just skip this one?” 

Where. 

“Maybe if we figure out which jails and rehabs your mom went to?” Kie said. 

“Maybe if _what_?” JJ asked, “What would that do?” 

“She might have made a friend there, it could give a geographic area.” 

JJ disagreed, “Yeah, I don’t hang out with the sociopaths I met in the group home, that’s not where she is. She wouldn’t make friends in jail except to get by, she was smarter than that.” 

Pope and Kie looked at each other. One of their “we know things JJ doesn’t,” looks. 

“I’m the expert on my mother,” JJ said, “we’re not doing that.” 

When. 

JJ was eleven years old the last time he saw his first-mom.

“When did it happen when you were eleven?” Kie asked, “Like, month, season?” 

May 14th. So close to the end school. JJ saw she was sick with it, if he could just stop having to go to school every day, if he could have just stayed with her maybe he could have stopped it and maybe and maybe and maybe

“I don’t know, Spring. April. May. Sometime.” 

Pope glanced at the door separating them from Aster. “So either answer this, or don’t, but handle it if it upsets you okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Why did she leave?” 

JJ waited for oncoming explosions, for his brain to mainline suggestions of what to throw and what horrible things to scream and just how to destroy this moment, but they didn’t come. He was just tired, it sank through every layer of him. 

Mom was better every time she came home. She was usually weird, sometimes really happy, sometimes serious and crying all the time. But there were no baggies or finding her passed out in the bathroom. It was like every time she came home there was a countdown clock and JJ never knew how long was on it but eventually she’d start yelling at Dad, or yelling at JJ. And she’d cry in a different, harder way, and then she’d get high, again. Sometimes a slow decline, but as JJ got older, she got sick with it hard and fast, overnight, and she’d be happy and making ice cokes, then methed out and gone in the course of 24 hours. 

She left because they made her sick. JJ. And Dad. 

“I think to get clean,” JJ said, leaving the rest of it out. It wouldn’t help. 

“Can I bring up rehabs and jails again?” 

“No,” JJ said. “I already told you. She’s better than anyone she’d meet in there.” 

Why. 

JJ started to re-explain why Mom left, but Kie cut in, “This is actually why _we’re_ doing this. Like, Pope and I are doing this because we love you. But why you’re doing this?” 

“I already said,” JJ said, “I just want to see her, just have a conversation. I have a right to know where my mom is.” 

Pope glanced at Kie. “Do you want to do this even if you don’t get to talk to her?” 

“What, like she refuses to talk to me? I guess.” 

“I mean,” Pope said carefully, “if we find out she’s dead.” 

Fuck. 

Yeah. 

Okay. 

Yeah. 

A heavy meth user leaves her family, disappears and doesn’t come back. Even though she always did before. Even though she had a kid she knew was getting hit. Disappears without a trace that could be found by a government agency. Didn’t even go to jail, even though it was basically her vacation house. 

That’s a story about a dead person. 

“You know what,” JJ said, “I’ve accepted a lot of really fucked up shit about my family. I think I’ve got the right to not accept that my mom’s dead. If she is, fine, but I still want to--I still--I still just want to--” 

Kie slid entirely onto JJ, moving the laptop out of the way so she could hold him while he stuttered like an idiot. Pope grabbed his hand. 

“Okay,” she said softly, “we’re going to help you. It’s not a trick, we’re going to help you no matter what.” 

Aster burst out of the theater room and giggled at the three of them squished all over each other. “Can I have popcorn please?” 

  
  


\------

  
  


George came to get JJ from the waiting room right as he walked in. He did this little wave. He was wearing especially dumb-looking shoes, purple and yellow, and JJ debated commenting on them. 

“My office or the park?” George asked. 

“Office,” JJ decided, “You’re way too old for those shoes, man.” 

“Yeah?” 

“ _I’m_ too old for those shoes.” 

“They make me happy. Let’s go.” 

It took JJ a minute to sit down, so George didn’t either. George left the toy shelves uncovered again, and JJ found himself looking at the container with boats. “I don’t wanna play with the toys, but can I just look at them?” 

“Yeah, go for it.” 

He brought the plastic bin with the boats over to the couch and started sorting it into types. 

George let him and sat quietly for a while. “Do you know what kind of boats those are?”

“They’re not any kind,” JJ said, “they’re all fake.” 

“How was your week?"

JJ picked up a bowrider and squeezed it in his hand. He decided no way he was telling George about looking for his first mom. Wasn’t even going to talk anything near it. He'd just be a therapist all over it. 

"Good. Hung out with Pope and Kie. Went to a party at our friend Micah's house. That was good."

“Cool what was that like?” 

“I saw my neurologist. He wants me to take meds every single day.” George nodded. “Sorry, that didn’t answer your question.” 

“I think that was a great answer. How do you feel about starting to take medication every day?” 

“I think it’s dumb. I don’t have headaches every day.” 

“Maybe the point of them is that you won’t have them ever.” 

JJ thought about telling George about how Heyward cried, and how JJ wanted to cry too but he was too afraid he’d get hit and how everything was really confusing and it felt like this week lasted an entire lifetime. 

“I took care of my cousin yesterday,” he said instead. 

“Oh?” George asked. 

“Yeah. She’s at camp. I pick her up sometimes because I’m the only one with fixed shifts, so if everyone else can't, I’m the only one who will never not show up.” 

George wrote. “Which cousin?” 

“Aster. She’s eight.” 

“Ezekiel's older daughter?"

“Yeah. What does it matter?”

George finished writing. “I guess I’m curious about how important it is to you that Aster doesn't not get picked up.” 

JJ laughed loud and hard. “Fuck you, you’re supossed to warm up to that, dude.” 

George raised his eyebrows. “Warm up to what?” 

“You know what you’re doing,” JJ said, “We’re supposed to bullshit for a while before you say something like that.” 

“I’m sorry,” George said, “That was a serious question. We are going to come back to that, but what do you want to talk about first?” 

JJ wanted to lie down on this couch and just go to sleep until it was ten-thirty and this was over. Or alternatively, leave and make good on his long-term goal to break Win Forrester’s car windows. Maybe set her car on fire. “I thought I was in charge.” 

“If you don’t want to talk about why you’re worried about your cousin, I want to know why that’s too unmanageable to talk about.”

Gross. 

“I’m not worried about Aster,” JJ clarified. “No one would ever not pick her up. I pick her up when other people can’t. I’m like, seventh on the list. She’s never not gotten picked up. So it’s not the big deal you think it is. Is that what you wanted?” 

George lifted the hand with his pen and kind of circled it around. “Well. Yes. Now it is. To be honest, you told me a lot more than that just by getting upset about this, I wasn’t asking questions because I thought it was a sore spot, but it seems like it is.” 

“What is?” 

“A kid getting picked up when they’re supposed to.” 

JJ pulled the bin of toy boats over his lap. “I lied. Some of these are modeled over real boats. I can tell you which are which.” 

“I want to hear that, later,” George said, “Have you ever gone to camp?” 

“No,” JJ said, “no, do I seem like someone who's gone to camp?” 

“There’s free camps, I know of a number on your island, some that were around when you were a kid.” 

“Why do you know _that_ but I have to explain every over damn thing about Kildare.”

There was this time. 

That was maybe like a lot of other times, but if it was then it happened the same way each time, because JJ only remembered it happening once. 

One summer, JJ went to a day camp with John B. It was awesome, actually. It was at their elementary school but there weren’t teachers, just very cool camp counselors, who JJ now knew were extremely lame college kid _s._ Seeing them around now, JJ saw how worthless and incapable of being cool the camp counselors were. 

But he thought they were cool. 

At least for a couple weeks. 

“I don’t think it happens every summer,” JJ explained to George. “I think it wasn’t the same one either, because the one John B and me went to was about Jesus sometimes, and Aster’s is about engineering or something. It’s just the same because all the counselors are full-on college weirdos--like not Kooks, just do-gooder mainland kids who come here to coo over how poor and broken we are, then go to Duke and get the Nobel prize for saving us.”

“What are Kooks?” George asked. 

“That’s a different story,” JJ said. 

“Will you tell me later?” 

“Yeah, _fine_.” 

Summer after third grade. That’s when JJ and John B went to camp. Big John signed John B up, and when he brought JJ home once, he waited for Dad to come to the door. 

Dad was sleeping a lot then. JJ didn’t know it then, but now he figured he was on benzos, and that meant JJ got himself to school and could watch as much TV as he wanted as long as the volume was on low. 

“Boys are done with school in a week,” Big John told Dad. 

“I know that,” Dad said. 

“Where you putting JJ?” 

“None of your damn business is where.” 

“If you ain’t got a plan--”  


“If what? Hollis Crane takes him. JJ tell you I lock him in a closet or something? He spends all summer at a damn bowling alley, kid has the best summer of anyone on Kildare.” 

JJ didn’t remember ever going to a bowling alley but he added it to the truth if anyone asked what he did. 

“Why would I get in a closet?” JJ asked. Dad grabbed him and pulled him into the house, but JJ hovered by the door, right behind Dad. 

“Well John B wants JJ to go to camp with him. I signed him up, but he won’t leave me alone until I ask you if JJ can come too. It's free, at the school. They’re gonna take the kids on a camping trip in July for three days.”

“Not letting some perverts molest my kid, thanks. JJ go take a shower.” 

“I want to go to camp!” 

“JJ _now._ You stink, what’d you do with my kid John? _”_

Dad was mad to be awake and got madder when JJ didn’t take a shower and kept asking about camp. He didn’t get real mad though, he just picked JJ up and dropped him in his bedroom then shut the door, and yelled _“Shut up”_ so JJ did. 

Mom came back two days later. She hadn’t even been gone that long, she was home for a few days for JJ’s birthday and even said, “I’ll be back soon,” so JJ wasn’t even that surprised when Mom was the one in Dad’s truck, picking him up after school. 

“You’re here,” he said, climbing into the front seat. 

“Of course I’m here. You have to sit in the backseat,” Mom said. 

JJ stopped pulling on his seatbelt, “Why?” 

“I went to one of the nice places with the ladies and found out you’re too little for the front seat.” 

“Mom, I’m nine, remember?” 

“Jesus, JJ. Just listen to me.” 

Mom was the bad, sad kind of home. The kinds where she read her NA book and went to meetings and JJ knew she was trying not to do drugs because he was nine now and people sometimes pretended to stop lying to him. That’s how he knew she’d like the idea of him going to camp, because camp was a good normal thing and she was always trying stuff to be normal when she was like this. 

“Mom there’s a camp at my school, and it’s free,” JJ told her when Dad was _right there_ but Dad wouldn’t get that mad because he pretended not to be angry for a while when she first got home. “And I would get to be with my friend John B--remember my friend John B has a bike?” 

Mom blinked and nodded slowly. “Yes. John B. Yes. Where’s the camp?” 

“At my school and I can go camping and be with John B. He said there’s going to be rocket making, and a basketball mini camp.”

“And it’s free?” 

“It’s some Christian thing, Lu,” Dad said, “Bunch of college perverts who’re gonna call DCS if JJ don’t have an ironed shirt.” 

“They’d have no reason to do that, _Lu_ ,” Mom said firmly, “It’s probably the same teachers from his school, why shouldn’t he go?” 

Dad grunted. “Fine. I got nothing to do with it though.” 

Mom tried to smile. “You’re going to camp, kiddo.” 

_Now_ , JJ understood why Dad was worried. 

Mom drove JJ to the camp every morning, and sometimes she picked up John B. Mom and Big John were friends, they got late to camp a lot because Big John would come stand by Mom’s window and talk until JJ and John B were yelling about missing breakfast and she went “Roger that,” and reversed super fast and made them all laugh. 

She made John B sit in the backseat too. She brought coffee in a thermos like a mom on TV and one time she let John B try it and she laughed when he spat it out all over the back of her seat and said, “It’s okay, that probably improved the value of this piece of shit.” 

She was supposed to pick JJ up, every single day. Usually she walked and held his and on the way home even though JJ was too old for that. 

When Ezekiel asked him to pick up Aster the first time, JJ didn’t even think about the couple weeks he went to camp until he was walking up to the school. He leaned over the short chain-link fence around the playground and yelled, “Aster, c’mon!”

She ran over and started to climb the fence, and then some total stranger in a tie-dye shirt ran over. “Hi hi,” she said quickly, “Hi, Aster c’mon, let’s wait for you cousin.” 

“This is my cousin!” 

Aster successfully climbed over the fence and JJ caught her, lowering her sidewalk. JJ grinned at the confusion on Tie Dye’s face at this white guy holding a Black little girl. “I know, how special, right?”

He watched Tie Dye approach the fence and realize she couldn’t climb it to stop this possible kidnapping. JJ very kindly didn’t walk away and complete her fears. “Look, if I was gonna kidnap anyone I’d kidnap a kid a lot less athletic. Look how fast she climbed that thing, I’d barely be able to hold her!”

That went over _terribly._

The novelty of a multiracial extended family did not prevent Tie Dye from shakily insisting JJ come inside the fence and talk to her supervisor, a similarly shaky voiced tie-dye dude who insisted that JJ produce his drivers’ license. He went along because Aster grabbed hold of his shirt and stared with big shiny eyes at Tie Dye like _she_ was in trouble, and JJ wanted her to be able to go to camp the next morning. 

He didn’t scream or yell or run to the car. He smiled stiffly and listened to the bushy-haired camp boss explain their _policies,_ “We can’t let unauthorized people pick the kids up, even if the kids know them.” 

“Look, I don’t like kids getting kidnapped either. My name is John Maybank, or JJ, and I’m Aster’s cousin. Her dad, Ezekiel Wakefield, put me as a pickup person when he signed her up. I know because he called my mom to find out what kind of car I had, because somehow, that matters.” 

“We need to see ID,” he said. 

JJ couldn't help rolling his eyes while he pulled it out of his wallet. While the boss examined his license JJ pulled up photos of him with Aster, not killing her, to drive home how gross they were being. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tie Dye said when it was all sorted out. “Aster we’ll see you tomorrow!” 

JJ threw Aster his car keys and told her to get her booster seat out of his trunk. “She’s gonna feel great coming back somewhere that assumed her family wanted to hurt her.”

“It’s procedure,” Tie Dye said, “We can’t just let kids go off with anyone.” 

Anyone on the Cut would have just taken them at their word and wished them a good day, even teachers. They knew the score. It was the strangers who fucked things up. 

“It’s just really important you understand this,” JJ told George after he realized he’d been talking about the thing with Aster for a long time, and that wasn’t even the story he’s trying to tell. “It’s just really fucked up. It’s people like you coming in and judging us and you don’t even know what our lives are like.” 

“I understand,” George said, “You were just picking up your cousin, it sounds like your aunt and uncle even told them you’d be picking her up.” 

“They did. We didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“If that happened to me I’d be upset.” 

JJ nodded. He’d already said so much today. But it seemed like George understood. “People called DCS on me a lot, even before my concussion last year. They wouldn’t leave us alone. It was sometimes for really stupid reasons.” 

George wrote on his pad. “You were telling me about when you went to camp. Was that one of those times?”

“Yeah. My mom was supposed to pick me up. She was really busy because she was trying to keep sober. And she was. I would have known, I knew then when she wasn’t okay and she was okay.” 

JJ’s voice was getting too loud. He’d never talked about his mom this much. Ever.

“I believe you,” George said when he was quiet for a minute. 

“She was just late picking me up. They wouldn’t let me leave. I don’t know why, I was old enough to walk home but they made it such a big deal. It was just me and this counselor named Max and his boss Yessica, and I was so mad I couldn’t even talk. I remember Yessica’s phone, she had an iPhone 4 with a green case with a monkey sticker on the back.” 

“What happened with Yessica’s phone?” 

“She kept calling people. I guess my parents. And she left really angry messages, like my now-mom does now when she calls my dad. Like, ‘We’re here with JJ, you need to come get him.’ They were so stupid. I lived two miles away. I could have just left.” 

“Did someone come pick you up?” 

“No. I left. I realized they wouldn’t be able to stop me so I left. When I went to camp the next day, someone from DCS was there. I didn’t know who they were though. I wasn’t ready for it.” 

“Was that your first interaction with DCS?” 

“It was for such a stupid reason. My mom was a little late and they called DCS like someone tried to kill me. They never left us alone after that. If I hadn’t gone to that camp, they probably wouldn’t even know I was alive.” 

George was quiet, JJ watched him write on his notepad so fast it was like he’d wanted to write every word JJ said and was catching up. Finally he did, and he sat quietly, watching JJ. 

“I’m not sure where to start,” George admitted.

“Why not?” JJ asked. He actually wanted to know. 

“That was a really important story, I can tell,” George said, “It’s important that it was your first interaction with DCS, and you stopped telling it right before you talked to the DCS worker. Do you want to tell me that part?” 

“No.” 

Her name was Annie. She had one long black braid and she was young, as young as the camp counselors, JJ thought she was one at first. She smiled wide and said JJ’s spiderman shirt was cool, and “I want to talk to you, is that okay with you?” and JJ said--

“I didn’t know who she was,” JJ repeated. 

“I believe you,” George said. 

And dumb younger JJ said, “Yeah, okay,” because he thought maybe she was a new counselor and JJ would get to be in her group and it was only when Annie asked if he wanted Yessica to come with that he got suspicious. 

She called him John, even though Yessica said his name was JJ. She asked questions about who he lived with, and if he’d had breakfast that morning and where he went after camp. 

Once Annie said she was “here to make sure you’re okay” JJ knew _exactly_ what was happening. 

As soon as a Maybank was old enough to talk, he knew his life at home was _private business_ and anything that happened in it was a _family thing._ People who asked were nosy, and thought they were better than him, and only wanted to give them a hard time. He wasn’t even supposed to tell John B about his house. 

JJ stopped wanting to talk to Annie real fast. He said, “I want my mom,” then stopped talking. He just sat there and pulled on the bracelet Mom made him with gum wrappers that night until it came apart and he started crying.

Mom came and JJ could tell she’d been crying too, and she kept pressing her lips together to keep from crying right then. She sat next to JJ and held his hand while the DCS lady talked and talked and talked. They were in the art room, and JJ hated being there for the rest of fourth and fifth grade. 

“We’re just going to check-in in a week, how about that?” the DCS lady said. 

No one came, not the next week, no one came again for more than a year. JJ didn’t go back to camp. He spent all summer with his mom. They went to the beach, and the mainland a few times to see Mom’s friends with the dogs, and it was the best summer ever. It was. 

George didn’t know what JJ was thinking about. He asked, “Did you know that your family wasn’t okay before that?” 

JJ immediately hated George. It hit him like the wall of a wave that stung your skin, then broke past you and washed away like it was never there. The hatred washed away. 

“Not really,” JJ admitted. “Other people had parents who came and went. The Cut is full of deadbeat parents. Other kids got stuff at school. Food and clothes and stuff. I don’t--sometimes I still don’t know why I’m different. I--fuck I know my dad went a little far. I just really think, if my mom had picked me up then it would have been okay.”

“Can I ask you a question you won’t like?” 

“That’s the only kind you ask.” 

“What if no one picked Aster up from camp?” 

JJ stared at George. “I picked her up. I always do, or her mom does. No one didn’t pick her up.” 

“You seem upset just at the idea of Aster not being picked up.” 

“That wouldn’t happen to her,” JJ said, “I get what you’re doing, but that’s not even a situation.”

“Why should it have happened to you?” 

JJ squeezed the bowrider so hard that the plastic dug into his hand. “It shouldn’t have. But it did. And I'm fine now.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Minnesota by the Mountain Goats 
> 
> Parts of this were written months ago, the other 80% was written in one day. Shout out if you also write 80% of your content in 20% of the total time spent writing it. 
> 
> As always, I'm excited to hear what you think <3 !


	8. New straw for the old broom

Life was good most of the time, for sure, but not getting beat by his dad involved so many damn adults looking at JJ and talking to him. JJ grew up with a long list of reasons DCS could not be trusted, and none of the reasons were the ridiculous amount of time they ate up. 

The week after the doctor, his caseworker came over. It took a lot of focus not to just bail on Corrine. She’d dyed her hair blue, which just emphasized that she was like, six years older than him, and was probably on her way to a really cheerful breakdown. She proved JJ’s theory when, after showing her Dr. FR and JJ’s theoretical bed, Mom offered her leftover crab and grits she just sat at the table and said, “Wow. You guys are my favorite family.”

Which was kind of sad. Corrine wasn’t their favorite anything. JJ couldn’t believe he used to be scared of her. 

She was like “Oh man” about JJ having to go to the ER since she last came and was like “That’s great” about JJ going to therapy and was like “Cool!” about Pope getting another scholarship and was like “So the parental rights termination trial is on Friday, but it’s going to be procedure, none of you have to go.” About JJ’s mom. 

“The trial for Lulu?” Mom asked. “That’s faster than we expected.”

“Yeah,” Corrine said. They were at the kitchen table and Corrine was, as always, waiting for a cup of tea she’d never get. “The whole thing is sped up when no one objects. It’s going to be pretty straightforward, the child and foster parents don’t have to go. I heard JJ already made a statement?” 

Weeks ago, JJ talked to Win Forester for about two seconds over video chat on Kie’s computer and said his mom was super gone and had been for six years. Win Forrester was just like, “Thank you, that’s it,” and ended the call. JJ further considered slashing her tires next time he went to the mainland. 

“So she’s going to legally not be my mom at the end of the day on Friday,” JJ said. 

“Is that okay with you?” Corrine asked. 

What, like if JJ was like,  _ no, nevermind, I want a ghost who I haven’t seen in six years to stop my adoption,  _ they’d just stop the trial and stop all of this. No way. 

“It’s fine,” JJ said. He really did feel fine. His mom having legal rights wasn’t doing him any favors, this being done was one step closer to him being adopted, the way he was supposed to be. 

“Is it really?” Mom asked. 

“Yeah, totally, for sure.” 

JJ decided to take the chance to see if anyone knew anything already at DCS, and steal their intel. Corrine never knew jack, but he could at least start there. 

It was usually easier to get straight answers out of people when they were off their balance, or trying to leave somewhere. JJ was starting to realize other people weren’t lying as often as he did, and they needed to be ready to lie, so he carefully wanted until Corrine had her binder and was heading toward the door before saying, “Uh, Corrine? Can I ask you something?” 

Corrine lit up. Probably so excited to be of service. She should date George. “Yeah of course.” 

“My therapist said my parents would get notice about trials? Did you guys know where my mom is?” 

Corrine didn’t know the answer to 98% of their questions, but she shook her head right away. “No. I have that they didn’t find her when you were in the group home, and she hasn’t shown up since. It’s good though, it means she’s not in prison and there’s no death record. That’s good right?” 

Mom sighed and put a hand on JJ’s shoulder before walking away murmuring, “Good Lord.” That was fine, it was better that she was out of earshot. 

“Is that all you do?” JJ asked. 

Corrine sat back down at the kitchen table and opened up her binder. “I mean _ , I  _ don’t do it.” She shuffled through her papers. “Okay. It looks like there wasn’t a tax record, or residency record.” 

“In North Carolina, or anywhere?” 

“I’m not sure,” Corrine said. She smiled sheepishly, “My job is really just to make sure you’re safe and healthy. Maybe your lawyer could help?”

Yeah, Win Forrester wasn’t going to be part of this voyage. “Thanks Corrine, you’re great,” JJ said. 

She literally glowed right up. Corrine probably rode that high for days. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


At the end of a very, very good night, they figured out they’d saved enough money to buy Pope’s Macbook. JJ and Pope sat on their bed and added the day’s cash and realized they’d actually had enough money for weeks. 

“We could go tomorrow,” Pope said, a little giddy, “We could have it  _ tomorrow.  _ My dad doesn’t even need me, we could go after you get done with work.” 

“What about Kie?” 

“When does Kie actually ever need to be working?” 

They texted Kie and made a plan to leave straight from the hotel when JJ got done. The closest place that sold Macbooks was in Virginia.

“Eastover, Virginia they’ve got a ‘certified Apple products dealer. Like it’s drugs, but overpriced computers,” Pope said when he figured it out, “About a two hour drive. Hot damn, we could go to Heartache on the way there  _ and  _ back for some ice cream.” 

JJ went to work with a heavy intent of wringing as much money out of these marks as possible. He needed it, not only did he have to buy a lot of product from his cousin at once since she was going out of town, he and Pope also got approval from their parents to go to Chapel Hill before the summer ended. 

Their parents were like, “You gotta stay in motels, and not the kind you get murdered in. And you gotta eat three meals a day, and get some nice clothes so people don’t think we keep you in a shed,” and all that was very expensive. 

Another condition of the trip was that JJ had to take his migraine meds, every day, on time, for ten days at least. Heyward asked to see them over the weekend which forced JJ to admit he hadn’t gotten his new prescription. Heyward gave him an exhausted look that JJ wasn’t sure if his face could do before he moved in. 

“C’mon, we’re going to get them right now.” 

It was late at night, and Heyward came along to the pharmacy, “Because this is your responsibility, but it’s one you don’t have the option of not doing.” While they waited for the pills to be ready, Heyward led JJ to flip through the magazines. He pulled out a magazine that was just about reptiles, and one about traveling or something, and when the pills were ready he bought those, and a little tray to keep pills in. 

“Dude, I’m not an old lady,” JJ complained after Heyward paid and handed him the reptile magazine and pill tray. 

“You’re right, old ladies are more responsible than you. You wanna go on this fancy trip with Pope, you can’t end up in some ER we don’t know. More than that, I don't like it when you're in pain, it and it makes me feel like a bad dad, so, please. Take your meds, and once it's a habit, you get to go on the trip.” 

So that was a condition of the trip too, the most annoying one but it didn’t cost anything to swallow a few pills and send a pic of the med tray to his parents each morning. Everything else  _ was  _ very expensive though, especially after $1,200 left the First National Heyward Maybankbank, so he needed to net some excellent tips. 

JJ learned at an early age that second to brute force, pity was the most effective way to get what you want. But he used it sparingly at work because when  _ rich  _ people pity you, it gets weird. One time, a few weeks ago, a very Mormon looking family got way too invested in his life and somberly offered to take him back to Utah for a “healthy living environment,” so he backed off for a while. 

But he could really use some cash today, so when a moderately old lady wearing a totally pink suit asked him what he was up to this summer, he hurriedly said, “Uh, you know, um working, trying to find my mom, but she’s a big-time druggie so who knows where she is.” 

Instead of melting, the lady handed JJ her barely touched plate and asked, “Have you tried one of those paid search engines for finding people?” 

JJ blinked. “Yeah, didn’t turn up.” 

“Well that’s how it goes with addicts sometimes. How old is your mom?” 

The fuck. “Thirty-six?” 

“She’s almost certainly on Facebook, then. Search her name, or nicknames, or go through mutual friends. Try Pinterest too, if she’s the type, and YouTube.”

“Okay,” JJ said. 

“Is your dad alive?” 

JJ looked around at the posh dining room and the loud families and old couples having brunch. This was not what he was angling for. “I’m not allowed to talk to him. It’s dangerous.” 

Old Pink Suit still didn't melt. “Well then find someone else she might be talking to. People rarely cut ties completely, she most likely kept talking to someone after you thought she stopped. Can I get another coffee?” 

“What?” 

“Can you come back and give me more coffee?” she said slowly. 

Oh. Right. He was a waiter right now. “Yeah of course.” 

When JJ came back with her check he asked, “Are you a cop?” 

“Just a hobby” she said, handing him a heavy black card out of her bright pink wallet. 

“Cool,” JJ said, “Thanks.” 

Obviously she didn’t tip great, she probably thought all that was all the tip she needed to give. JJ rushed out when his shift was over, unbuttoning the cuffs of his dumb shirt that he had to pull his bracelets up under during work. He shook them down his wrist and walked out the back docks where Pope and Kie were waiting in her car. 

“You were supposed to bring us food, dumbass,” Kie said when he got in. 

“Hi sweetheart, I love you too,” JJ said. 

“Go back inside and get us some biscuits, please, thank you so much.” 

“Come with me, they like you more than me,” JJ said. Kie obliged, turning off the car and jumping out to come to the kitchen to smile and tilt her head and said, “Would you mind, we just totally forgot to pack food, and there’s not much better than here,” until they walked out with biscuits, cold bacon and cheese grits. 

“If you worked here you’d make so much more money than me,” JJ told her. 

“Of course I would,” she agreed. 

The trip to Virginia was uneventful, but awesome. It included two trips to Deep Freeze for ice cream, which was particularly ballsy because during the first visit the manager remembered kicking them out last month and kicked them out again, and they came back a few hours later which was exactly the kind of domestic Pogue like shit they were doing this summer. 

At the computer store Pope hovered over the display for the $1,200 laptop for twenty minutes. 

“People buy Apple computers and they last ten years. That’s 32 cents a day. That’s okay. That’s a good investment. That’s better than--I should get this.” 

Kie and JJ were on either side of him. “You totally should. It’s an investment in your college self.” 

“Look how shiny, dude,” JJ said, “High def as hell, you gotta get this.” 

It was super fun watching the store dude react to $1,263.60 in small bills, but he took it and Pope walked out with his investment in his college self. 

Kie came home with them that night, and they tried for a hot second to all hang out in the bed before it got too hot. The sheets got damp and they were all disgustingly sweat and it pretty quick became a game of standoff for who was going to fuck off into the other bed first. 

Pope couldn’t take his eyes off the computer. They got Chromebooks at school the last few years, which was fucking lame because they could barely go to any websites on them. Pope went to porn websites on his Macbook just because he could, and also, maybe, to try to get JJ to be the one to get out of the bed first which he refused. Mostly because he knew Kie would call it off pretty fast. 

They all got quiet almost asleep on either side of Pope who was still playing with his computer. Kie fell asleep first. 

“Wanna try some stuff to find your mom?” Pope asked, “Maybe there’s an app we can try.”

“Nah,” JJ said. “Later. Have fun. Watch porn once I fall asleep.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It wasn’t hard to find an excuse to go see his Aunt Mimi, because he went over there to buy weed from her daughter on the reg.

Aunt Mimi, and Esther, and her dumbass stepson Jaren who stayed after his dumberass dad bounced, lived in a nice as shit Habitat for Humanity house down south on the plot their trailer used to be on.

JJ showed up unannounced because Aunt Mimi was literally always there. He announced his approach by stomping as he walked up the ramp, hitting the rail with the side of his fist yelling, “Hey, it’s JJ. Coming in, don’t shoot me.” He stopped when he heard a drawer open. “Mimi, it’s JJ.” 

“Hands.” 

He rolled his eyes and held his hands sideways over the screen door. This was the toll to pay to get into her house, and it wasn’t a hard one. 

“Still wearing all those rings,” she said, which meant she had decided JJ wasn’t a leg breaker and he could pushed through the ripped screen door open and find Aunt Mimi standing in the doorway, holding her Glock sideways in one hand, some kind of complicated knitting project almost reaching the ground in the other.

“Hey, can I hang out?” JJ asked.

She smiled sunnily. “Sure thing. I’m glad you’re here. I need your help hanging some curtains.” 

“Yes ma’am. No shotgun?” 

“It’s in the other room. Esther ain’t here, you gotta wait if you wanna do business.” She put the gun in a side table drawer and gathered her knitting up. “Have I made you a hat yet?” 

JJ followed her to the back of the house. “I think a few years ago.” 

“I could make you one with cat ears. You’re kind of gayish, I thought that you might like that.” 

He laughed. Last year, when DCS was figuring out where to put him, Aunt Mimi was the only Maybank he was disappointed he couldn’t go to instead of going to his now-parents, but there were apparently too many pending felonies under this roof. Fucking government. “Nah, I’m not--just a normal hat please. Can I have a green one?” 

“You got it.” 

She showed JJ where she had curtains she ordered online to put over the big tall window at the back of the house. She handed him a packet of instructions that he flipped through, taking in pictures and spending time on the chunks of text that seemed important until he knew how to do it. 

While he took the rod out of the box to hang, Aunt Mimi got a chair to stand on to help him install it. 

“Where’s Jaren?” he asked. He knew Esther was staying with her boyfriend for July to help him with his strawberry or blackberry stand or whatever. 

“Eh,” Aunt Mimi said, as a full sentence. “Besides, you and I can handle this.” She stepped off the chair when JJ started gathering the little slide-y, bob-y things. 

Aunt Mimi was super short, a foot shorter than all her brothers like she had to stay small in the warzone JJ imagined their house was. Worse than his, based on Bart’s bellowing, forced funny stories about lit cigarettes and the back shed that Dad sat still and tense during, with a forced smile like he knew that it had to be funny. 

If JJ had siblings doing that shit he would’ve decked them right there, taking his fucking story out like that without permission. Dad just swallowed it until he got home. 

“You talked to my dad lately?” JJ asked. 

Aunt Mimi was quiet, took the things JJ handed her and climbed back up her chair. “I try not to talk to your dad,” she admitted. 

“Why not?” 

“Your dad is a--” Aunt Mimi trailed off.

A what? A drug addict? A career small-time criminal? What? What made him different from everyone else in their family?

“Your dad shouldn’t have hurt you that bad,” she finally said. “Most of us ain’t talking to him much these days” 

“It’s okay,” JJ said quickly, “I think he didn’t mean to.” Aunt Mimi didn’t respond to that. “Seriously, that sucks that he doesn’t get--” 

“John Jacob, I do not want to talk about your father.” 

JJ shut up fast. It didn’t feel very likely that she’d want to talk about his mom after that. 

They got done with the curtains, then Aunt MImi walked him over to the bathroom door knob that fell off and since she didn’t have any tools, JJ basically hit that until it went back on, then he sat in the kitchen and tried to figure out why her toaster slide-y thing wouldn’t go down while she made him grilled cheese. 

Once, when JJ was little, and Esther hadn’t been in her accident yet and Jaren wasn’t around, he got dropped of at Aunt Mim’s trailer unceremoniously. He felt like he remembered Aunt Mimi finding him watching TV and going, “What the hell?” like he’d snuck in, but that couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be right either that neither of his parents explained to him that he would be staying there for a whole month, because it’d be messed up to just leave a kid somewhere without an explanation, and even though Aunt Mimi ordered pizza so much, and Esther helped him make a board game for school and no one yelled the whole time, and there was always, always food, JJ wanted to go home every second until Dad came and picked him up like he’d just been there an hour.

“You gonna be a senior next year?” Aunt Mimi asked. 

“Uh huh.” 

“Are you going to graduate?”

That used to be a question JJ didn’t need to think about. Then when John B didn’t drop out, it became a question he didn’t know the answer to. Now it was one he could answer. “Yeah, I am. If you graduate from the tech program at my school, you get a scholarship to any community college in the state for a vocation program. So I gotta.” 

Aunt Mimi raised her eyebrows. “That--that’s amazing. Damn. Good job, kid.” 

“Thanks.” He decided this would be an okay time to try. “Hey, uh, did you go to my high school?” 

She took the grilled cheeses off the pan and put them on plates. JJ took the one she held out and watched her get ketchup out of the fridge. “No, I went to Islandside Prep,” she said sarcastically. 

“Right,” JJ said, “Yeah, but uh, did you go there when my mom did?” 

Aunt Mimi stopped laughing, but she didn’t change the subject. “Nah, kid, we’re all older than your mom.” 

“Yeah. Okay. But you were friends with her right? Everyone else was mean to her.” 

She squirted ketchup on her plate but didn’t touch her sandwich. JJ didn’t either. “They weren’t--they’re mean to everyone. They don’t know how to handle someone who isn’t like them.” 

“Wait, how wasn’t she like them?” JJ asked. Drug addict. Small-time criminal, maybe. 

Aunt Mimi shrugged, “Your mom wasn’t from here, she didn’t come until she was in junior high. She was all city, always mad we didn’t have more stores, doctors, I don’t know. Talked about how we were small-time, like we weren’t right there.” 

“She wasn’t from here?” JJ asked. 

“You didn’t know that?” 

“No,” JJ said, “I was--” He could tell Aunt Mimi all of it, everything. She wasn't talking to his dad. “I was hoping to know who her family was, ain’t any Campbell’s I’ve met here, I’ve met mostly everyone.” 

“Ah,” Aunt Mimi said as soft as a lady who carried a gun around her house could be soft. “No, they ain’t here, not anymore anyway. Your mom was--she was like you, I guess. I think DCS didn’t want her at home, she got sent out here to be with her big sister.” 

“What was wrong with her family?” 

“Nothing special, I don’t think.” 

The flimsy, barely there image of his mom with generic parents somewhere on the Cut dissolved. This made more sense. More that JJ having grandparents that were somehow the only people on this side of the island he’d never met. He forced himself not to think about how Mom cried so hard it was like she was possessed after that day at camp, how she drove him home but didn’t stop crying, not until Dad came home and found her on the bathroom floor, JJ sitting next to her, terrified to leave her alone. 

Dad picked JJ up and gently put him in his parents bed. He turned on the little TV by their bed and gave JJ the remote, then wordlessly walked out and closed the door. JJ could hear him talking quiet to Mom, gentle. It made more sense, that Mom would be so terrified of DCS that she’d never bring JJ back to camp, and spend weeks never letting him out of her sight. 

“What about her sister?” JJ asked. 

“Her name was Paloma. She died, drowned, I think. Your mom married your daddy when she was in high school, did you ever know that?” 

“Because of me, right?” JJ asked, “Didn’t she get pregnant?” 

Aunt Mimi shook her head, “She didn’t wanna get moved again. Hitched herself to your daddy after Paloma died. She dropped out, and tried to be a grown up.” 

JJ pretty much knew people like his parents didn’t happen because of special, TV lives, but it still sucked to hear. “You heard from her at all?”

“Are you trying to find her?” Aunt Mimi guessed. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you trying to get out of that foster home? That ain’t the way to do it. We can get your here, or get you um, emacia-- _ emancipated _ . Your mama ain’t the road to go down” 

“No, I don’t want her,” JJ said quickly. “But like, I have a right to know where she is, right? ‘Cause like, Esther knows where you are, and most people know where their mom is. And stuff.” 

Aunt Mimi nodded. “Eat.” JJ started to protest but she shook her head, “Finish your sandwich, and I will help you as much as I can.” 

JJ started eating at record speed, but slowed down when Aunt Mimi left the kitchen. He got up and looked at where she went into her bedroom, then raced back to the table to finish his grilled cheese when the door opened. 

Aunt Mimi sat down and JJ’s heart raced at the sight of a stack of letters in her hand. 

“Is that from my mom?” 

She shuffled the letters and after a moment of hesitation, handed them over. JJ hurriedly wiped the grease on his fingers off on his pants and carefully took them. 

“They’re just from the first few years, you know, when she was with that friend in--” 

“Which first few years?” JJ asked. 

“You know,” Aunt Mimi said casually, “After--you were in fifth grade? About to go to sixth grade.” 

JJ’s heart pounded so hard his hands shook while he looked at the envelopes. There were twelve, all addressed in loopy, long handwriting that might as well be Chinese for as well as JJ could read it. He turned the top envelope to Aunt Mimi, thumb by the return address. 

“Where was she?” 

“Durham, at first. Then she moved to Chapel Hill, the last year she wrote.” 

“Chapel Hill,” JJ repeated. “But that’s where the college is.” 

“There’s more there than that. Your mom was with a friend out there, selling soaps I think.” 

This couldn’t be real. The world wasn’t real, JJ was actually somewhere else with Kie or maybe with Mom--real mom, now-mom, he wasn't here. Maybe his body was, but his brain wasn’t. 

“Yeah, I told your daddy about it. I don’t think he got letters too, but I gave him the money she sent for you, and let him know--”

“Money?” 

Aunt Mimi froze. “I told you, honey. I’d come over, and talk to your daddy and let you know how your mama was doing.” 

No. No. JJ never remembered her coming over. He never, ever remembered Aunt Mimi in his house, and no one ever talked to him about his mama again after she left, except Dad making sure he knew--

His entire brain was gone. Maybe his body too. The only thing keeping him on this earth was the point where the soles of his boots met the floor, if he lifted one foot he’d be gone forever. 

“You should have told me,” he said. 

“I did tell--”

“Now, you should have told me now. I don’t remember stuff from then. They--I thought she was dead.” 

Aunt Mimi rubbed her eyebrows. “Honey, that last letter was three years ago. I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve got your ADHD, maybe just don’t remember me coming over, but I did.” 

JJ carefully opened the first letter and was met with more loopy, ridiculous, completely unreadable handwriting. Fucking biblical. 

“These are mine now,” JJ announced, holding up the letters. He wasn’t really here, so he couldn’t be disrespecting his elders because it wasn’t real. 

“Sure,” Aunt Mimi said. “How about I drive you home, talk to those people?” 

“That’s okay,” JJ said, but not really because this wasn’t real, “I’ll talk to them.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


JJ’s handwriting was heavyset, and stupid childish, and it took him forever to get a sentence down. Mom’s letters looked like they were written without a single pause, all the words and sentences ran together without picking the pen up once. Some words were just a bunch of loops that got crossed out, like she realized no one could read it so she wrote it again. 

If she’d typed it JJ could read it alone, but why would anything be that easy? 

Mom and him were so different, like all around. Dad was such a ridiculous liar. It felt laughable, actually, especially on Friday when JJ fed Dr. FR before work, and left early so he wouldn’t be late after a stop. Dad was wrong about him every day of the week. 

He detoured to Kie’s house and found her out back, cleaning out the HMS Pogues. She saw him coming and stepped out of the boat. 

“Bailing on work?” she asked. 

“No way,” JJ said, “I’m responsible as hell. Your hands clean?” 

Kie laughed and held up her clean hands. “What’s up?” 

JJ pulled the letters out of his backpack. “Can you read these for me?” 

She accepted the stack and it only took a glance for her to see what they were. She nodded quickly. “Yeah, for sure. Meet up tonight, I’ll tell you what’s in them?” 

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “yeah, I’ll find a party for after.” 

He could tell Kie was working real hard to be chill. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “See you later, yeah?”

JJ worked and he wrung out every dollar that each of his marks walked into the restaurant with. He walked out with $312, but he didn’t walk out, he went downstairs to wait outside of his mom’s office. He sat on the floor, leaning against her office door and scrolled through Instagram until he heard her heels smacking on the cement floor. 

JJ looked up at her. She wore nice clothes to work every day, and changed into sweats the moment she got home. Mom slowed down when she saw him. “Do you have a headache?” she asked.

At first he wasn’t sure, JJ tried to feel his body and notice, but when no sharp, bone screaming pain came through he shook his head and stood up. Mom unlocked her office and he followed her in. 

“Did Corrine call you? Did the court thing happen?” 

Mom squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah, JJ. It’s all done. We’re one step closer.” 

“Did she come to court?” 

Mom looked surprised, then sad. “No, honey. Lulu didn’t come to the trial.” 

JJ exhaled hard. “Okay, that makes sense.” 

“Sweetie,” Mom put her purse on her desk. “Honey, if this is tearing you up, we won’t do it. We can adopt you when you’re eighteen, it’ll be a lot simpler, or we don’t have to--” 

His breath caught. “No. Please. No, I really want to be yours. I’m always torn up, like, full time. The difference is I’m letting you know it now.” 

Fuck. Therapy was really fucking with him. 

“Can I stay here?” JJ asked, “Please? Can I just hang out with you?” Maybe he should have just said he had a migraine. Mom would have let him stay with her forever if she thought he was in pain. 

“Of course you can,” Mom said. “I have to go check in with the other managers, but why don’t you sit at my desk and play on your phone, I’ll see if I can get us some lunch.” 

“Are you going to come back?” JJ asked. 

“Yes,” Mom said, “I am going to come right back.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Broom People by the Mountain Goats. 
> 
> I always feel like commenting on posting speed is a BAD SIGN, but posting is probably about every 2 weeks now. See if you've heard this excuse before: I got very into KNITTING and it's taking up my free time :D. And if you didn't have the vibe that elements of this are influenced by my life/history, knitting made an appearance here for that reason alone! 
> 
> I'm blown away you're reading this, and appreciate every kudos and comment <3 <3 !!


	9. I know what can hurt me real bad, and what can't hurt me anymore

“Nevermind,” JJ told Kie the second she got in his car. 

It was raining, so hard it was like it would never stop. Kie ran out of her house with a big envelope tucked under her light purple raincoat. She pulled her hood down and squinted at him. 

“What?” 

“Nevermind,” JJ said, “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.” 

Kie held out the envelope that he knew contained his mom’s letters, and JJ threw it in the backseat to underscore how very much he changed his mind about hearing what was in them. He started the car but didn't move. 

“Wait, pardon the fuck out of me,” Kie said, “I read all this--”

“Yeah, sorry, but I don’t want to find my mom anymore.” 

She fell back on the seat. “Oh. Okay.” 

He spent a few hours hiding out in Mom’s office. Now-mom. Real mom. She wasn’t there mostly, but that was fine. He just sat there and charged his phone on the fancy hotel room lamp on her desk and said, “Can I help you?” real politely whenever someone came looking for her. 

It starts to feel kind of silly when he closes in on hour three of waiting for his mommy to come back. Mom hurried in with a styrofoam container with leftover donuts for them both. 

“Did you tell Evangeline that you took over my job?” Mom asked, eyebrows raised. 

“You know I would never tell a lie,” JJ said, moving from her desk chair to the one next to her desk. 

They ate in easy silence until they were done, and JJ started getting his shit together to leave. “I have to meet Kie,” he said, fishing his rings out of his pocket and putting them on. He was so wrapped up being a loser baby that he was still dressed for work. “I mean, thanks though.” 

Mom stepped in front of him, “Hold on, sweetie. I’m sorry that your mother didn't go to the trial.” 

JJ shook his head fast, “No it’s cool. It’s good. You didn’t want her too. I mean, we didn’t.” 

Mom prodded his shoulder until he stepped close enough to be enveloped in a hug. “We don’t like that your birth parents aren’t able to take care of you,” Mom said quietly, “Not at all. We can wish it was different, _and_ be happy you’re with us and want to make it permanent.” 

JJ hugged her back fiercely, even as he asked, “You really still want me?” 

He was such a loser. What the fuck was he doing here, acting like a toddler who’d lost his mom in a store. 

“Oh God, JJ,” Mom said, “I love you. I want you.”

His mom, his first mom, used to hug him like she was trying to get him on her side. She’d catch him walking out of the bathroom and grab him up, whispering, “You know I love you, right? You know I’m a good mom. I’m a good mom. I love you so much.” All fast and desperate, like she knew she was going to fuck off any day and she had to prove she’d done right before she did. 

His now-mom, real mom, had nothing to prove. 

“I know,” JJ said, pulling away, “Uh. Thanks for letting me hang out. I love you too.” 

“It’s raining out there,” Mom told him, “your head okay? Usually, if you get a migraine from a storm, you feel it before it starts, right?” 

Finding an abandoning drug addict was firmly off JJ’s agenda. Like, forever. 

“I’m okay,” JJ said, “those meds you guys _made me_ take every day worked, I guess.” 

“I know,” Mom sighed loudly, “we’re such terrible parents.” 

JJ didn’t really know how to explain how big a deal that all was. Kie always had two parents who wanted to see her, talk to her, know she was okay. She couldn’t understand how the tiniest things felt like fucking _everything._

“So um,” Kie said, “you don’t want to know what the letters said?” 

JJ thought and realized that weren’t going to make a plan of what to do next in their day real quick, so he pulled out of her driveway and away from Mike Carrera possibly being nearby. “Nah, thanks though.” 

Kie clearly was not happy about that. “I mean, normally you would’ve already read them, if you weren’t dyslexic you could have read them right off, and you’d know already.” 

“So what?” JJ lobbed back, “Besides, I can’t read because of all my mom’s super chill drug use killing my baby brain. So that’s on her.” 

She looked at him all horrified, and JJ wondered if this was going to be like that head injury joke disaster all over again. Thankfully, she just shook her head and said, “But--” 

“Kie--” JJ interrupted, “Sorry. But no. I don’t want to anymore. Just don’t tell me, please, because I don’t care. Don’t tell Pope about them either, okay?” 

“He doesn’t know?” 

“Ki _aaaaaara._ ”

“Yes, sorry, yes, okay. Sorry, just adjusting.” Kie perked up when they got to the shabby cluster of stores at the entrance of the cut. “Oh fuck, let’s go get Slurpees.” 

The storm sirens went off while they were in the store, and their phones blew up with parental texts. The hurricane that was supposed to just clip them was coming straight at them. They got extra Slurpees, for fortification, and went home. 

They arrived just as Heyward finished blocking off the windows and Pope was dragging the backyard chairs into the kitchen. 

“Holy shit,” Pope shouted at them from the back door as they came in the front. “This was not supposed to be this bad.” 

JJ and Kie sandbagged the doorways and then went upstairs to make sure the windows were closed. JJ went into his parents' bedroom, which he’d only been in a few times. It wasn’t much bigger than their bedroom, and aside from a basket of laundry and photos of Pope on the wall, it wasn’t much lived in. They both spent most of their time downstairs, reading and cooking and watching TV and playing board games. 

JJ yelled downstairs, “Where’s Mom?” 

And Heyward yelled back up, “Where you think? Rich folks gotta have their pillows fluffed in times like these.” 

Pope ran upstairs past Heyward’s voice and JJ followed him into their room. The rain was fucking sick, falling so hard it was black outside in the middle of the day. They both climbed on the bed with Kie to look out the window. 

“The youth council was supposed to present our gender-neutral language proposal at the town hall tonight,” Pope said mournfully. 

“The worst outcome of this hurricane for sure,” JJ said emphatically, "We could still go surfing." 

Pope considered that and looked out the window. "Uh. Yeah. No. Not this time." 

While the internet was still connected, Pope took out his shiny laptop and got to work planning their trip to Chapel Hill. They decided on the second week of August, lining up with a prospective student event. Pope signed up for it, and so did Kie, even though she didn’t want to go to UNC, just to be together. They tried for half a second to try to convince JJ to sign up too. But even if UNC would never see his grades, JJ knew he couldn’t pass for college-bound for more than twenty minutes at a time. 

“Plus,” JJ said, “I gotta get a job when we get there, I’ll scope out the economy and shit while you guys look at statues, or whatever.” 

“I think we should stay an extra day or two,” Kie said. 

Pope just about had a seizure. “We don’t have that on the spreadsheet. That’s two more days of food, the hotel, not working. That’s an enormous increase in our net costs.” 

“I just think--” Kie glanced at JJ, like he was going to be her ally, “--we should spend more time getting to know Chapel Hill. You guys could tour some apartments, to see what it would cost. And, uh, we might find other things to do. Right JJ?” 

Did he and Kie have a conversation that he just full-on forgot? It was possible, for sure, so he just played along. “I mean. Yeah. Uh. I mean. Kie’s helping with the costs nows she’s coming. Uh. We could stay.” 

While the house shook and Pope fretted over his spreadsheet, they broke in the vape pen JJ’s cousin Mark passed onto him. Vape pens were the fanciest shit in the world, they weren’t his favorite high but they didn’t smell which made them essential in parentally supervised life. 

So when Heyward barged in without knocking, all he could do was squint at the almost invisible vapor in the air. Kie coughed loudly. 

“Sure is dark, huh Dad,” Pope said. 

With nothing in sight except a tiny amount of condensed water, all Heyward could do was glare. “Y’all ain’t going anywhere. Pope, don’t even think about going to that damn meeting.” 

“The city already canceled it because they’re cowards,” Pope groused. 

Heyward nodded sincerely. “Sorry for your loss. Kie you got permission to be here? Okay, good. JJ. Take your reactive meds. Right now.” 

It took a minute for JJ to understand. “Why? I’m fine. I promise.” 

“Astronauts get their appendix out because they can’t treat it in space. I can’t take you to an ER. Take your meds.” Heyward closed the door behind him, and Pope imitated his lecture hands at the closed door.

A few minutes passed and Pope said, “You gonna take your meds?” 

“Fuck no,” JJ, “total waste of a pill, and I don’t need H telling me what to do.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“You little idiot,” Heyward said, pressing a bag of frozen peas against the back of his neck while JJ groaned. “I got a stupid ass kid who don’t gotta listen to nobody because you make such good choices.” 

“I’m going to puke,” he moaned and Heyward got out of his way fast. They’d been sitting on the floor outside the bathroom for what had to be an hour now, making it past midnight. He could hear Pope and Kie listening to music upstairs, and it would have been respectfully quiet if every single sound was amplified by a hundred. Even as annoyed as H was, he was still whispering. 

The storm kept on until night but it was over now, which was good except Mom was stuck at the hotel because the bridge was out and she was _so much better_ when JJ was like this. Heyward was always half-mad. And JJ was always furious too--what right did Heyward have, being annoyed when JJ was the one puking nothing up and tearing up his throat?

When he got done, Heyward was back, pulling him away from the toilet and trying to give him a refilled water bottle that JJ batted away. “I’m just going to puke it up.” Heyward pressed it back at him and JJ took a sip just to get left alone. When Heyward was satisfied, he pulled JJ out of the tiny bathroom just so he could hold him up and put the frozen peas back on his neck. He pressed his other palm against JJ’s forehead, because that helped too, especially when it was cold from the peas.

The peas helped, and so did Heyward’s hand, and JJ felt himself exhale into it. Right now, he was more comfortable than he usually was when things were this bad. He was almost calm. 

“Why ain't you left me alone?” JJ asked. Usually, he got checked up on pretty often, but he’d never had anyone sit next to him all the way through like this. 

“Just about gave me a heart attack every time I’d find you lying on the floor like you were dead. Ain’t risking you getting there right now, not with the bridge out.” 

By whatever forces that were at work that kept JJ from being dead by now, he rarely got sick. He got 99% of his lifetime of puking done in the last year. But the few times he did come down with something, be it head lice or food poisoning, Dad ignored him unless JJ did something worthy of a beating.

Even half-mad, Heyward’s belligerent minding was more care than JJ knew how to deserve. 

JJ had two hands of his own. He didn't actually need Heyward's help. But Heyward knew as well as he did that it was awkward to hold the ice on his own neck, especially when he was at this point in the headache. The point where his head didn’t even hurt in a way he could feel, but every function of his body was shot to shit and it was like he was drugged with the worst drug ever. 

And okay, yeah, JJ could put his own hand on his forehead but it was better this way. Some stupid, secret part of his brain relished being held and protected, even when he could protect himself. Especially when. 

Miracle of miracles, JJ stopped throwing up before getting to the totally-fucked-up-must-go-to-ER point. Heyward said he’d better sleep downstairs and closer to puke palace anyway. JJ didn’t object, he had no stamina to get upstairs. Heyward walked JJ over to the couch and threw a blanket over him. 

Barely awake, and barely aware he whispered, “I want my mom.” 

Dad stroked his hair and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “She’ll be home soon.” 

Which was weird. Because no one _ever_ knew when she’d be home. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next day was packed with full-on Pogue shit. Cleaning shit up at home, cleaning shit up at Heyward’s store, then fucking _right off_ to fish on the water. 

“We should send a postcard to John B,” Pope said after they’d checked their traps and were just lying in the sun, the boat gently rocking beneath them. 

“They’re trying to move to the DR,” Kie reminded him. “We gotta wait until they contact us.” 

“They’re taking their sweet time,” JJ noticed. 

“We better go down there and knock some sense into them,” Pope suggested. 

“Yeah,” Kie yawned, “We’ll go right now.” 

They kind of fell asleep in the sun which was cool, except that Pope spent the whole ride to Matt’s house poking his sunburned arm and saying “Ow. Ow. Ow.” 

The island still had power, but the cell towers were temperamental so it worked out that Matt had already gotten the word out that he had kegs for the Boneyard a day early. Matt, Lizzie, and two kegs got in the back of the car and the party was on. 

Some girls still thought JJ would like, date them, but that was okay, especially when he was half drunk, because that meant more people to talk to which was always good. Pope was publicly off the market, but that didn’t stop him from telling as many people as possible about how the youth council got _screwed_ and lost their chance to change the world at the town hall. 

“It’s not like progress can’t happen later,” Pope said, half slurring drunk, “Just, justice...keeps getting delayed.” 

Pope and Kie were becoming the same person. 

He took off his boots when they got there, but JJ was hit hard with wanting them back on right now, so he tripped over some fallen branches until he found the boots next to Kie’s backpack. He sat on the sand and bushed the soles of his feet off before pulling the socks on. 

Kie walked over and sat next to him. Out here, they were pretty far from the fire, but JJ had Kie memorized, and even in the dark, he could see all of her. 

“I need to tell you something,” she said, “How drunk are you?” 

“Uh, more high than drunk.” 

“Like, normal for you high?” 

JJ stopped with a boot in his hand. “Jesus, what is it?” 

Kie wiggled and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I had those letters all of yesterday and I kind of went on a hunch and--well I made a Facebook profile actually, and I think I found her.” 

He played that backward in his head and came up empty. Maybe too high. “Who are you talking about?” 

She went to give JJ her phone, then pulled back. “Your mom. In her last year of letters, she was living with a woman named Maya Werner. She lived with other people in other letters, but she really _talked_ about a Maya and, I had a feeling and--” 

“I told you--” JJ cut himself off. “You found her?” 

“I don’t know,” Kie said, “I really don’t remember her, if we met at all. She just--I found someone named Louisa Werner. Who looks like you?” 

JJ reached for her phone like a child grabbing for candy. He turned over his phone and was immediately hit with _cold_ spreading out from his stomach. 

Mom. 

Definitely. 

Absolutely. 

Mom. 

Her hair was cut short, shorter than his, but still blonde and still her goofy, big sideways smile. Her face filled the circle profile picture, and in the background, it looked like she was in the woods. She looked healthy, and normal. 

There was another photo above the one of her, with words. JJ focused real hard to read it. 

_Jeremiah 29:11_

_11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future._

JJ didn’t know the bible beyond the main players' names, but he didn’t think it had anything except promises of doom in it. Did Mom prosper now? Did she have to leave for God’s plan? 

“This is a hell of a way to ruin a party, Kie,” he laughed. 

“I think she married Maya,” Kie said, “And did a lot of Googling, a Maya Werner married a Louisa Campbell in Virginia. Marriage license there too. Depending on how and where your mom changed her name, DCS never stood a chance of finding her.” 

JJ tried to see more of her profile, but Kie wasn’t friends with her. He saw cartoon memes, pictures from protests and one more photo. This one of her, definitely in the woods, wearing a backpack, next to a shorter, tan woman with even shorter hair and bright green sunglasses. 

She looked annoying. 

“She’s in Chapel Hill,” Kie said, “Maya was easier to find, her address was available on one of those free search sites. We can stay longer, just so you have a choice. If you want to meet her, we can, if not, we’ll just hang out.” 

_Mom._

JJ laughed, and it sounded and felt real. “Jesus. Nice of her to end up in the same place we were already going.” 

“Oh yeah,” Kie agreed, “Hell, it’s walking distance from campus.” 

“That’s good,” JJ said, “It’ll make it really easy. If we decide to go.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


And then, JJ just _wanted_ to go home, for a minute. He got a Sunday brunch shift, which meant mad money, which meant if he was getting anywhere near his dad, he had to hide it real good. 

Pope had the car, he got work driving to the mainland to pick up a mini-fridge for some Kook princess because it would take a _whole extra day_ to get delivered a normal way. The walk from the hotel to Dad’s house spanned almost the entire island. The hotel was on the far, north side with beaches on two sides of the property. Dad and JJ lived in a house at the tangled, southern edge that felt miles away from civilization. Their closest neighbors were far outside being close enough to notice even if their house burned down, or someone was screaming or something. 

When he was almost there, it dimly occurred to him that it was a bad idea to get this close to Dad without an escape route. 

But Dad’s car wasn’t there when he arrived. His big, stupid truck broke down sometime in the last year, JJ knew that from Matt, and now he was driving an even older, white truck with no door on the passenger side. JJ’d seen it in town a few times now, and always fucked off in the opposite direction the second he saw it. 

There was no way Dad was here and his car wasn’t, but JJ still was quiet as he went inside. The door wasn’t locked. The door was never locked. He moved slowly through the house, feeling how _weird_ things were now. 

This house was big, bigger than his now-house, but it was full of _crap._ Dad did not believe in trash. He kept bottles like they were treasures and beat on JJ just like he’d dropped diamonds in the ocean if he touched a box of them without permission Even JJ’s room got half co-opted, he’d come home with random crap stacked in a corner. There were three sheds that were full of engines, and air conditioning units that Dad would never fix. 

The table in the main room was big and solid, and JJ used to play with his action figures under it. Sometimes Dad would tell him to get rid of collapsed cardboard, and when JJ asked, Dad gave him a box cutter and tape and his big black pens, and JJ made a cardboard house with beds and couches for his Batman and Spiderman action figures to live in. He could see the water from every window in the house. JJ didn’t know how much he missed that. 

Both times JJ came through here _after,_ with DCS and then with Pope and Kie, he felt like he was going to come back. He didn’t take things like he wasn’t coming back. JJ sat on his bed and tried to track what Dad had done to it since he left. But everything was covered with a film of dust. JJ assumed it would become more hoarding storage, but his room was exactly how he left it, right down to the chair set next to the door, ready to be wedged under the knob. 

JJ lay down on his bed. It felt deep, heavy, familiar. He wanted to fall asleep right here. 

Maybe he could come home. 

It felt so good to be on his bed, in his room, and maybe if he found Mom then she could come home and--

He sat up fast at the sound of the side door opening. 

_Fuck._

JJ opened his bedroom window and squeezed through the opening. He dropped to the ground and started running toward the road, but within three steps, Dad came around the side of his house with his gun drawn. JJ froze. The gun was hanging by his side and JJ tracked it until Dad growled and put it back in his waistband. 

“You stealing from me, boy?” 

“No. No!”

That didn’t stop Dad from stepping toward him, and it didn’t stop JJ from stumbling backward. Dad grabbed his right arm in a vice grip and JJ had to hit Dad’s face with the heel of his palm to get away. “I didn't take anything!” 

Dad tried to get at him again but JJ shoved him away and yelled, “You can’t _do that_ anymore.” His heart was beating so hard it might explode. He shook his arm, already knowing it was going to bruise, and pushed past Dad, hurrying toward the road.

“ _Oh._ Alright,” Dad yelled after him, “You’re so damn special now, can break in wherever you please.” 

JJ took the bait. He stopped short and wheeled around. “It wasn’t locked. It’s my house too.” 

Dad raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? That’s why DCS is knocking on my door, saying they gonna vacate my rights? Can’t have it both ways, kid.” 

JJ threw his arms in the air. “Yeah. Guess it’s not my house.” 

Mom wasn’t coming back here, and neither was he. 

Dad looked at this house, like he was looking for signs of JJ doing something bad, and scratched the back of his head. 

“You walk here?” 

JJ felt frozen where he stood. “Yeah. No. Yes.” 

“I could drive you back to that place.” 

JJ very clearly remembered the last time he was in a car with him. Dad beat the shit out of him in front of a _police station._

Maybe Dad remembered too, his expectant look shifted to derision then disgust. Yeah, JJ wasn’t getting in a car with him. 

“I didn’t take anything” he repeated, “I don’t want anything from you.” 

“Why you at my house then?” Dad yelled, “This ain’t for you no more.” 

JJ laughed. “Aren’t you like, embarrassed? To be such a terminal piece of shit?” 

Maybe not being Luke Maybank’s son anymore afforded him a layer of protection. Like how Dad might smack JJ’s cousins, but they were shielded from anything more involved than that. Maybe there wasn’t anything actually, physically wrong with JJ himself because instead of murdering him, Dad just spat at his feet. 

And walked away. 

He felt fast panic, and JJ wondered if maybe he did have a reason for coming here that he didn’t know about. Maybe he was gonna tell Dad about how he found Mom and maybe he thought that Dad would become good all at once and maybe--

Maybe he could tell George about it in a couple of days, and George would know what to think. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Ontario by the Mountain Goats
> 
> *gestures widely at my clusterfuck of a life* Sorry for the delay! 
> 
> I hope some of you are still here, please please comment!!


	10. I wanna sing one for the cars that are right now headed silent down the highway, and it's dark and there is nobody driving, and something has got to give

JJ spent the entire morning--from the moment he gave up on sleeping to when he walked through the door to George’s office--deciding exactly what he would and wouldn’t say. 

He’d memorized George’s snitching rules and he was almost sure that the only snitch worthy thing was the five-point bruise on his arm from Dad grabbing him, but that was totally fine. His grey long sleeve shirt took care of that. George wouldn’t snitch if JJ didn’t mention that and just told him about his first-mom. So he decided that was all he would tell. 

Mostly because if he didn’t talk to someone he was going to explode. Kie promised to not tell Pope and JJ didn’t know for sure why he didn’t want to  _ tell  _ Pope, especially when he liked Pope just as much, he just didn’t. And aside from a few embarrassing text conversations with Kie, JJ’s burning obsession over Mom’s Facebook profile had nowhere to go. 

The night before George, JJ studied her profile picture and the photo of her with Maya and decided they were taken on the same day. He didn’t know people who had specific clothes for exercising in, but he knew from Instagram that Mom and Maya were wearing LuluLemon type shit. 

She looked so freaking normal. More normal than she was supposed to. JJ spent hours with his phone brightness on low, obsessing over every part of her Facebook page he could see straight. Just when he was about to fall asleep, he noticed Mom’s total, toothy smile without that gap that’d been there JJ’s whole life. 

That totally fucked up ever sleeping again. 

“How do people get teeth when they lost them?” he asked Heyward when he finally came downstairs in the morning. JJ had been watching TV for hours but Heyward looked at him like he was doing cult shit on the coffee table. 

“What the hell did you do to your teeth?” 

“Like from meth.” 

“You doing  _ meth?”  _

“No! Why do you always think I’m doing something bad? Like, lots of people are missing teeth but I’ve never seen someone get a new one.” 

Heyward rubbed his face and sat down next to him. “Dentists can do it. They give you a fake one. Reason no one here has done it because it's expensive.” 

“Like five hundred dollars?” 

Heyward shook his head. “More like a couple thousand.” 

“No way. That’s fucking nuts.” 

“That’s what?” 

“That’s nuts.” His heart was beating crazy hard. Mom had a couple thousand? That wasn’t possible. That was an impossible amount of money. He was desperate to tell Heyward why he was pulsing with rage, but he didn’t even know what he’d say. 

Heyward frowned and reached to touch JJ’s jaw, but he moved away. “Damn we never checked. Do you have all your teeth? Cavities? You okay there?”

“I’m fine,” JJ said.

By the time he was walking to George’s office, he’d decided exactly how he would bring up his Mom, and exactly what he’d say and then, the second JJ sat down with the bin of fidgets, George threw him off his game. 

“I’ve been worried about you.” 

“What?” Did George find out about--what, his migraine? Dad, somehow? Was this his way of saying he was pissed JJ just took the fidgets without asking? 

“The hurricane, Hurricane Ian. It was bad out here, I was thinking about what it was like for you on Kildare.” 

JJ squinted. “Oh. No. It was nothing. I mean, we think a brick hit our car but maybe someone who doesn’t like us just threw it.” 

George squinted right back. “Someone who doesn’t like you?” 

“Yeah, there’s lots--nevermind.” JJ was annoyed at George taking control before he could. “Look, it was a pussy hurricane, we didn’t even lose power.” 

George picked up his notepad and pen. “What makes a hurricane a pussy?” 

JJ pulled a triangle clicky thing out of the fidget bin, and tried to decide how long he had to wait to get on topic.

Not very long. 

“I have stuff I want to talk about, you know,” JJ said. 

Turns out that was a  _ very  _ exciting thing to say. George shifted in his seat a little, and held his pen so it was ready to take notes. “What do you want to talk about?” 

Suddenly he was drawing a blank. 

“I made a Facebook account,” he blurted out. 

“That’s unusual for someone your age.” 

“It isn’t really me. I mean, I didn’t use my real name. I didn't friend anyone.” 

“What name did you use?” 

“Jacob Heyward.” 

George nodded. “Your middle name and your family’s last name. What did you make a profile for?” 

Well. Maybe George was too annoying and wrong to tell anything to. “It’s not my middle name, it’s part of my first name.” 

“What’s up, JJ?” 

Or maybe not. 

“I have stuff to tell you.” 

“Tell me.” 

It turned out that JJ was capable of talking  _ real fast  _ because while he explained about Kie and Mom and Facebook, George’s pen was flying across the notepad. JJ kept jumping back and forth and sometimes he’d think he got too confusing but George just nodded and wrote. He covered when Win Forrester was being a total bitch and made him talk about Mom, and his decision to find her with the triad, and Mom not coming to the rights hearing, and everything and everything and everything. 

Except going home. 

“I’ve never talked that long,” JJ said after he’d trailed off for a minute and realized he was done. 

“You had a lot to say,” George said, finishing his last note. He scratched his temple with his pen, which JJ had figured out meant he wasn’t sure what to do. “I’m going to summarize back to you. Let me know if I get something wrong.“

JJ nodded. 

“You haven’t thought much about your mom, but talking to your lawyer and parents about her brought up memories. You were feeling sad for a while, and you think that led to you thinking more about her, and you’ve talked to me about her a few times. You decided you wanted to find her with your friends, but you don’t want to live with her. You changed your mind on Friday after you found out her rights were terminated, but Kiara told you that she found your mom, and that she is living in Chapel Hill, married to another woman. You’re upset that she has a new tooth, because that means she has money to spare. Yes?” 

“Yeah.” George wrote another note and the only think JJ could imagine was that it was a smiley face. “You don’t have to snitch about any of that, I thought a lot about it.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. Even if you choose to meet up with your first-mom, it’s no longer a custody problem. Do you understand that? She can’t be your guardian again.” 

“Yeah,” JJ said, “I have a mom. A better one. I just think I might wanna see her, maybe.” A minute of very pointed quiet passed, and JJ’s mouth ran off without him. “John B didn’t have a mom either, and he whined about it way more than I did. I never cried about it, or tried to find her or--and my dad was _ worse,  _ but I shut up about it. I’m due. I get to care about her. It’s fair.” 

George nodded. “You have every right to want to see your mother. You can even whine.” 

“It’s just like--” JJ got fixed on the last part but almost changed his mind on continuing, then his mouth ran off without him. “I used to chew on my shirt sleeve to trick my brain into thinking I was eating. And she had new tooth money.” 

“That shouldn’t have happened. You weren’t supposed to be that hungry,” George said. 

“I know,” JJ said, and he actually meant it. That was fucked up. 

“You get to be upset.” 

JJ clicked the fidget toy a billion times and found himself deciding to keep doing it until George tore it out of his hands, but he didn’t. JJ clicked it as loud as he could five times, and glanced up at George. He didn’t look mad. 

“Are you going to tell my parents?” 

“Nope.” 

“Cool,” JJ said. He reached in the fidget basket and took out the bendy snake instead. “Because I don’t want to live with her. She might still be a meth head. Just a rich one. Maybe. I just want to see her. I’m not sure.”

“I believe you. Has Kiara told you what’s in the letters?” George asked. 

“What does that matter?” 

“It might give you more context to understanding your mom right now, before you decide if you want to see her. At least what her use looks like, more recently. Maybe she had thousands of dollars, or maybe she got free work at a dental school, or in jail.” 

“I don’t actually care,” JJ insisted. “And I didn’t know she was queer, or bi or whatever. I was mad on Sunday and I was like,  _ whoa am I a homophobe _ , but I’m definitely not. It’s just weird that she married anyone else. I thought my parents were married. She would’ve had to get divorced. So like, my dad would  _ know. _ ” 

“Have you tried talking to your dad since you found out?” 

Trick. Total trick question. This was already too much, he’d already changed his mind about that Dad part. “No,” JJ said, “I’m not allowed to talk to my dad.” 

“You still might have.” 

JJ shrugged, then shook his head. “Nah. He won’t help. I just need to figure out if I want to see her. I need to tell Pope. He’ll have lots of opinions. I don’t have to decide now. We added a few days to our trip, I can decide then.”

“I encourage you to talk to Kie about the letters before you make any decisions,” George said. 

“Why?” JJ asked, “What could even be in them?” 

“Just about anything. Maybe why you haven’t heard from her, that might help you decide. Or, you said your aunt said your mother sent money.” 

“Shirt sleeve,” JJ repeated, “that’s all I had to eat. What money?” 

“Do you trust that your father would have used any money he got to take care of you?” George asked. 

Oh. 

No. 

“You get to be upset about that too,” George said when JJ hadn’t answered for a while. 

JJ forced the hingy snake into a spiral. “I don’t know why I told you all this.”

“Did you think a lot about whether to tell me all this?” 

“Yes,” JJ said, “I expected you to like, do something about it.” 

“What do you expect me to do?” 

“You could yell at me.” 

George looked legitimately surprised. “Why would I yell at you?” 

“I’m not supposed to do this.” 

“Not supposed to do what?” 

Why did JJ have to  _ explain  _ how bad he was? 

“This.” 

More temple scratching. “You know, I can tell how much you love your now-family. And you’ve been struggling with reconciling how you were treated by your first-parents, and that you still love them.” 

“What does ‘reconciling’ mean?” 

“Right now, settling two conflicting ideas. Really, your two families.” 

_ Oh.  _

“You’re going to think I’m stupid,” JJ said. George just looked at him. “Can we do the dog pictures now?” 

“Let’s do them at the end,” George said. “What would make me think you’re stupid?” 

JJ could leave. He could totally leave. Things were starting to feel floaty and fuzzy, and JJ sharply regretted not getting high before this. He always got high before doing things that were hard and he knew damn well this was going to be hard. At least his brain was doing the weird high it did on his own that made it like maybe what was happening wasn’t happening, at least a little. It made things easier. 

“I didn’t know--” JJ cut himself off, “I didn’t know there were people like my parents. The now-ones. I feel really stupid.” 

“Why?” 

JJ snapped the plastic hinge on the snake back and forth. “I don’t know.” 

“You didn’t know that there were people like your now-parents,” George reminded him. “What are they like?” 

“Normal,” JJ said, “Like TV. I mean, they’re kind of normal. Dads on TV don’t yell as much as Heyward--not that he yells too much. It doesn’t like--it’s just the way he is. Um. And Mom--I mean. They treat me like a kid, sometimes. They’re always like, hugging me and checking if I’m okay--they’re going to realize they made a mistake.” 

“What mistake?” 

JJ shrugged. “I’m just not a kid.” 

“You know, hugging and checking on your welfare is a lifelong thing with some parents.” 

“I just didn’t know it was real.” 

“What was real?” 

“Real parents. Good ones. I thought it was just TV.” 

“Did you spend time with parents who weren’t yours before?” George asked. 

He shook his head. “I did. But my cousins. And John B, and his dad ignored him for days. I thought that was normal--I thought he was the best dad alive. And Yaya--worse than my parents. I spent one night at Pope’s house before I lived there. When I was a freshman. But it was too weird. I never did it again.” 

“What was weird?” 

It was winter and JJ didn’t realize it, but it was the week before their first round of finals and Pope was  _ stressed  _ about it. JJ came over because Pope was the only person he knew at the moment with enough cable for the monster truck championships, and Pope sat next to him on the couch while JJ watched cars crush each other on mute. 

The longer JJ sat in the living room, the more weird the whole place felt. There were heat vents in the floor that made the room  _ warm.  _ Warmer than even the special ed room at school, warmer than his or John B’s house ever got. There were family photos on every shelf, and so many books JJ felt sure they just bought them for show. 

Now he knew that he was wrong, that most books had been read by at least two members of the family. 

The big weird came when Pope’s parents came home. Heyward came home first, and barely gave them a look before disappearing into the kitchen. Once he was out of the room, he yelled, “Pope! Come here, now.” 

Intensely curious about what this was going to look like, JJ crept up behind the doorway to the kitchen and listened. And Heyward did yell, but really fast JJ realized he was just saying normal things  _ loud.  _

“You doing okay with school?” 

“Math is done. English is done. I’m trying to read for World History, but the way my textbook is written is really confusing.” 

“Hm. They can be. Use that computer to look up the topics then.” 

“But the test questions come from the book.” 

“Then do both. Don’t let their bad sources keep you from learning. Be better than that crap school.” 

"Okay, I will be." 

JJ understood absolutely none of it, and he especially didn’t understand when Pope’s dad offered to make him dinner. 

“It’s late, me and JJ already ate.” 

“Uh-huh. JJ Maybank. He’s gonna sleep over.” 

Later, JJ found out that Heyward saw Dad get arrested down the street from his store. But right then, his face got warm at the idea that someone--Pope’s  _ dad-- _ wanted him around. 

When Mom--no, Pope’s mom--came back, just before midnight, JJ felt like he was in some alternate fantasy dimension. She changed her clothes then came back downstairs and turned off the TV, even though JJ was still watching it. 

“Hi sweetie,” she said, interrupting JJ’s protests. And thank god, he immediately regretted intending to tell off someone who called him sweetie. She scooted in next to Pope and looked over the homework he had done and still had left. Then she looked at JJ. 

“Are you done with your homework?” 

Was he supposed to say yes? Maybe JJ did have homework, maybe he’d be lying if he said no. But if he said no, would she be upset? Or worse, would she stop talking to him?

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Good. Let’s get you a spot to sleep in.” 

JJ slept in John B’s bed when he slept over, with John B’s feet in his face, because Big John slept on the couch every night. Even though there wasn't another option, Big J joked about them being homos every time, and JJ figured Pope’s parents were even more opposed to homos, because even though Pope had a wider bed, they pulled a big foamy thing out of a closet and gave JJ sheets he didn’t know what to do with two thick blankets to sleep with on Pope’s floor. 

Pope’s mom walked by while JJ was pulling apart the folded sheet and took over, tucking the corners of the sheet under the foamy thing and handing JJ a pillow. 

“Are you warm enough?” she asked. 

JJ laughed, because this house was the warmest place he’d been in weeks, but she just squinted at him and he shut up. 

“I’m warm,” he said lamely. 

In the morning she was still there, and she offered JJ peanut butter or syrup for his toaster waffles, and just as they were leaving she gave them each brown paper bags with ziploc bags of rice, and sliced apples and sandwiches. JJ got breakfast and lunch at school, but for a day, he got to pretend to he had different parents who bought apples, and ziploc bags. 

The whole experience was so alien, and overwhelming, and hurt in this weird way, that JJ avoided Pope’s house until it became his only way to get home. 

George nodded intermittently as JJ talked about the first night at Pope’s like he understood but when JJ finished with, “I mean they were being way weirder than they are now,” George frowned. 

“Weird by comparison to your environment at the time?” 

JJ quit on the bendy snake and started taking off his rings to play with instead. “That’s the point. I mean. Even when I was a stranger, they were so much better than my parents, and now they’re even better and I still only want to be with my parents.” He looked up and George, panicked. “No. No, I don’t wanna be with my first-parents.” 

“I know.” 

“I  _ don’t.  _ I never wanna live with them again. _ ”  _

“JJ, I have no power over where you live. But even if I did, and you  _ did  _ tell me you want to live with your first-parents, I wouldn’t listen, and I wouldn't be surprised.” 

“Because I’m stupid,” JJ supplied. "I just--I'm okay now. I want them to see that I won. I'm a total, fucking idiot." 

George took a quick note then looked at JJ very intently. “You set a boundary earlier this summer that you didn’t want to talk about whether you have PTSD. I don’t have a clinically healthy way to proceed without asking you to reconsider that.” 

“What?” 

“Can we talk about my belief that you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” 

“I guess. But it’s not like I’m not a soldier.” 

“You have survived very dire circumstances.” 

JJ reminded himself that George lived on the mainland where everyone was at least a little richer so maybe--

No. It was fucking bad. By any measure in the world, it was fucking bad. 

“I guess.” 

“Yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright. So. You don’t have PTSD, you--” 

“Oh I  _ told you--”  _

“You actually have Complex PTSD. We talked about it for a moment earlier this summer. It occurs in people who had repeated, stressful circumstances, usually in childhood, that overwhelmed their ability to cope.” 

JJ laughed and George did not laugh back. “No part of me is complex.” 

George put down his pen. Damn. Serious business. 

“Do you feel like you’re different from other people? Not necessarily that you’re special, but like you are fundamentally made different from other people.” 

“I’m dumber than other people.” And his brain was different, he knew that. Other people couldn’t possibly think or feel things as fast and intense as he did. George literally winced. “What? I am. Ask my school.” 

George sighed a little then caught himself. “Alright. I disagree. But that speaks to your self-image, which gets affected as well. You have talked about not deserving affection, or not being smart in almost every session you volunteered information during. C-PTSD also includes difficulty with relationships, regulating--or managing--your emotions, and the way people experience the world is different. You show a lot of hypervigilance, you are always watching for my reactions, and you’re very aware of the people around us when we go to the park. Some people also experience dissociation.” 

JJ knew other people didn’t explode like he did, and didn’t mess up as much, and didn’t fuck up every relationship they had at least once a week. But the world  _ was  _ dangerous, he had to have his guard up. Other guys were like that too. Like John B. 

“What’s that last thing?” 

“Dissociation? It’s an altered way of experiencing the world. For example, have you ever been driving on a highway and notice you’re miles away and don’t remember getting there?” 

“No. Why would you explain it that way? Your patients are kids.” 

“Touche. Here’s how I explain it to kids: It’s feeling like you might be made up, or the world is. Maybe your body feels different, stuff is cloudy or you feel far away.”

What the  _ fuck? _ There’s a name for that? And it happened to other people? 

“Like your brain getting high?” 

“No, it’s not related to drugs--” 

“Like feeling like you’re high but you’re not.” JJ interrupted. 

George looked almost happy. “Yes. That’s a good way to describe it. Does that happen to you?” 

JJ never mentioned it because there was being a stoner, and there was being so incredibly stupid that your brain stops working when things get the least bit weird. And he wasn’t about to jump on board and help George spell out how fucked up he was. 

“No. I just heard about it, that’s all.” 

That wasn’t convincing and George didn't bother looking convinced. “The thing we need to talk about though, is that people with this disorder experience preoccupation with their abusers. It is very normal. Some people are preoccupied with getting revenge on an abuser, and may spend a lot of time thinking of ways to achieve that, or actually take steps toward it. Other people--more people in my experience--are preoccupied with gaining their abusers’ love. They live their life around what they believe will make their abuser love them, even if they don’t have any contact.” 

“And that’s me,” JJ filled in. “Do I want love or revenge, George?” 

“I think you want both.” 

He’d been pulling his pinky ring off and putting it back on for most of this conversation, but JJ gave up on that to cover his eyes with the heels of his palms. He wasn’t crying. He just didn’t want to be here right now, and doing that helped with that for a minute.  _ Telling _ was idiotic, telling anything ever was always idiotic and JJ should know better. Telling DCS that Dad was the one who cracked his head and cut up his leg--which he still didn’t  _ remember  _ doing _ \-- _ led to him spending weeks in a group home and that was a fucking nightmare. 

But after the group home he got to go home. At first being at Pope’s house was scary and exhausting because he was constantly  _ waiting  _ to see what would happen when he inevitably fucked up. Telling led to at least two months of being constantly on edge, waiting for the bad that never came. 

Then he calmed down and the bad still never came. 

He kept covering his eyes but he still wasn’t crying. “I feel so fucked up.” 

“You are allowed to want them to love you, JJ,” George said softly, “You are allowed to want revenge. But you have to decide what to do about it.” He went silent, but JJ went silent longer and beat him at his own game. “What do you imagine happening if you meet with your first-mom?” 

JJ wiped his eyes, switching to fiddling with the shirt sleeve on the bruised arm. “I--she’d be surprised. And she’d feel bad. And she’d make up some lie about thinking my dad was better and I’d tell her he  _ wasn’t  _ and she’d like, notice the scar above my ear and she’d start crying and beg me to move in and I’d tell her  _ too bad  _ I have a new mom now and she’d feel so bad.” 

“Revenge and love,” George observed. 

“I guess,” he said. That wasn't the casual, nice reunion he'd been trying to sell Kie and Pope on, but JJ realized that's what he'd been imagining all along. Not heartwarming. Vicious. “I went to see my dad. That shit never happens.”

“What shit?” 

“Where he changes. Or apologizes. Or wants me back, or something. He just yelled at me that it wasn’t my house, and he grabbed me.” 

George’s gaze darted to the sleeve JJ was playing with and it felt like a cold mix of alarm and something else. “You know my snitching rules better than I do, JJ,” George said. 

“He didn’t hurt me. You don’t have to do anything.” George waited. Alright, the dude wasn’t an idiot. He knew. “I am not going to hand over any evidence that he hurt me.” 

Even though George’s eyes were still on the sleeve covering JJ’s arm and it was honestly his right to snitch, he just nodded and went back to his calm, steady eye contact. 

“JJ, you’re allowed to want them to love you, and you’re allowed to want revenge, but that doesn’t mean that pursuing it is good for you. I think it’s a good idea to learn more about your mother, but that doesn’t mean you have to see her.” 

“But I want to win,” JJ said. 

“You can still win. I want you to think about ways to win that don't rely on getting certain reactions from your biological parents. Let's talk about that next week.” 

When George agreed that it was time to stop talking, and take out Dr. Felonious Rex and dog pictures, JJ felt like he’d crossed the line of a marathon. He even got to hold the phone for max photo exposure. JJ replayed a video of Maisy and Clemson losing their minds after the doorbell rang four times. 

“I’m not doing that again,” JJ said while he put away all the fidgets he’d used and got up to leave. “All the telling. I can only do that once a year.” 

“Okay,” George said, “but just for the record, JJ? That was winning.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still here?? I had to do this chapter. I just had to! Chapter title (our longest yet in honor of how JJ thinks) is from Cotton by the Mountain Goats
> 
> I'm not a clinician, my background in this area is complicated and requires buying me drink
> 
> This one was risky, so I'd especially love to know what you think!


	11. I know you're waiting, I know you've been waiting for a long, long time

They were going to be gone for three days which meant one of his parents had to feed Dr. Felonious Rex, so they had to be trained. The night before the trip, JJ brought them both upstairs to prepare. 

“We just drop the mouse in the tank, right?” Heyward asked, sounding all weary after JJ explained everything in the tank and where Dr. FR liked to hide and how to close it up so she didn’t wiggle out. 

“No, you use the tongs and dangle it,” JJ showed them, “so she feels like she killed it. It’s important.” 

“Your daddy will use the tongs,” Mom assured him. She was sitting on the bed, looking through the papers about Chapel Hill that Pope printed at the library. 

Heyward turned around and gave her a look and Mom gave him a look right back and about ten seconds later Heyward said, “Do I have to thaw it?” 

JJ described how to thaw the mice and Heyward looked all unhappy about it, like he wasn’t surrounded by dead fish all day long. “Look,” JJ said, “You have to. You’re my parents and she’s important. I know you guys are scared of her which is stupid but I looked it up and it’s okay if you don’t handle her while I’m gone, she’ll be fine, so just feed her and make sure she doesn’t run away. Please.” 

“Alright,” Heyward said. 

“In two days. You can’t forget. You have to feed her in two days.” 

Heyward squeezed his shoulder. “Stop worrying. We take care of you and you’re a lot more complicated than a snake.” 

JJ was kind of annoyed that they weren’t taking this seriously. “No, I’m not. And I can tell you when somethings wrong and she can’t. You gotta pay attention.” 

Mom laughed. “Honey, you have never told us when something is wrong. We had to develop JJ Sonar. You’re just a big snake that eats waffles.” 

Well. Okay.

“You’re going to be a very good father, in fifteen years,” Mom told him after they were all done. Which was probably the first time anyone in his bloodline got told that. 

For a minute he remembered that his first-mom was only one or two years older than him when he was born. But it also didn’t matter. That wasn’t a story worth spending more than a minute on. 

The story now was that Kie was being super shady about how she was getting away with going with them. They were supposed to not tell their own parents she was coming which, duh. 

When Pope directly asked how she was going to get away with it, she said “I slept over here almost every night during school, they’re even more distracted now. Just chill. It’s not coming back on you.” 

The story now was that their parents got more excited each day that Pope was going to tour his dream school: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. It would be a four-hour drive, and neither of them being able to take a full day off work was the only reason they weren’t coming. They were obsessed. JJ and Pope came home one day to the two of them watching YouTube videos about UNC on the TV. 

“I went a few times when Ezekiel was there,” Mom said later. She was working on sewing something on the cuff of Pope’s church jacket at the kitchen table, while JJ and Pope caught up on a backload of chores they allegedly had to do before they were allowed to leave on Thursday morning. Pope was organizing the pantry while JJ cleaned out the fridge.

“The campus is like a whole town, but it’s all for the school. All the buildings, everything is just for the school. Do you know if you’ll see the medical school on the tour?” 

“I have to get the first four years done first. I might not even go there for medical school,” Pope said all casual, but JJ could tell just from the way he was putting things down in the pantry that he was excited. 

“Well, try to see a dorm. So you know what they’ll look like. Ezekiel had a roommate named Tater.” 

“We’re not going to live in a dorm,” JJ said, “We’re gonna have an apartment. It’s gonna be awesome.” 

Mom kind of ignored that. “What if you get into a different school, JJ, and you want to live somewhere else? Pope, still see one, it’ll be good for you.” 

JJ was pretty sure that wasn’t so much about his 1.4 GPA stunning a school into letting him in, and more about Pope having a college life like Ezekiel’s. Which didn’t include a stupid townie tagging along. It was kind of mean, meaner than Mom usually was and JJ didn’t know what to do about it. 

But Pope said that people could live in apartments during college, and they wouldn’t let JJ live in the dorm. And JJ checked, and as long as he finished the tech program with all C’s, he could go to _any_ community college’s tech program in the state, and there was one in Chapel Hill. So that’s what they were going to do. It was just annoying that Mom wasn’t on board. 

But hey, when did JJ Maybank ever need parental approval? 

Pope made a spreadsheet with an honest to God hour by hour schedule for their trip. Uncle Ezekiel came over every day before the trip and got _very excited_ about the spreadsheet and kept adding more stuff from his “college days”, diners and bars and buildings with people’s names. He even gave Pope $40 for diner food which their parents very pointedly didn’t do, even when JJ hinted at it pretty damn clearly. 

Ezekiel gave them a printed map of UNC with notes of places to go, including a literal well that he circled six times. And right before he left, he took it back, and wrote down a list of places, “You’ll be better off if JJ is driving. Not that it’ll do much.” 

Suddenly a thunderous cloud loomed over their trip and after Heyward closed the door behind Ezekiel, he looked over the list and sighed. “We gotta have the talk.” 

“No, Dad. We’ve already had the talk. Both of them. A billion times,” Pope said. 

Heyward didn’t give up. He pointed at the couch until they both sat down.“New version of the talk. We’ve been talking about cops who have known you since you were a little boy. Who see how good you are and don’t care. I’m talking cops that just see a strange Black man. No history. Not the same at all.” 

“Should I leave?” JJ asked. 

“No,” Heyward said, “you gotta know this too.” 

_Hands on the dashboard._

_Be respectful. It doesn’t matter if they are._

_They don’t care about your hurt pride._

_Your only job is to be home on Sunday._

_Don’t you dare go to a single party._

_You don’t have an inch of protection these college kids have, not yet and maybe not even when you are one._

_It doesn’t matter what the white kids are doing, including JJ. Keep yourself safe. If he goes off and gets in trouble--and don’t you fucking dare, kid, look at me--you will not be able to save him._

_Don’t let the boat thing happen again._

Pope glanced at JJ, not long enough to get silent permission for what he tried to do. “Dad I wasn’t covering for JJ with Topper’s boat--” 

“Dude, stop _,_ ” JJ interrupted.

It was a little too important to him that his parents loved him even though they thought he used their boat to commit a felony. Even though it wasn’t true. 

“Listen” Heyward interrupted. He took a second to point at JJ, “I love you the same as Pope. This is about privilege, not worth. Don’t take any of this different and walk away from this with your feelings all messed up.” 

“Okay,” JJ said, even though he knew immediately that “the same as” was going to mess him up in some kind of way. 

“If someone has to talk to the cops, if someone has to get a ticket or get kicked out of some place, it’s JJ.” 

“We already--” Pope started but Heyward talked right over him. 

“Look at the boat. JJ admitted to it, but he didn’t even get near going to juvie. In March he’ll be an adult without a record. If you went down for that--”

“His dad beat the shit out of him.” 

JJ punched Pope in the shoulder. “Shut _up._ ” 

“Hey! That’s not a reason anymore,” Heyward said loud, “We’re talking about you boys. Right now. Pope, if you went down for that boat, you’d be locked up for years. They would have tacked trespassing, environmental charges, anything else they wanted to. Would’ve tried you as an adult if they even possibly could. Your life would be over. It’s not the same for you two.

“Look out for each other. That's your job as brothers. But if it gets to be that kind of situation, it is more important to protect Pope than JJ. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” they said at the same time. It made perfect sense. Pope glanced at JJ and told Heyward, “I promise, Dad, we’re just going to see the school.” 

After, Pope practiced with Heyward for his interview on Friday with someone--maybe the people who decided if he was getting in? JJ had not paid attention too many times to ask again. He wore his jacket to get in the Zone, and Heyward used the voice he used to imitate TV people when he said, “And what are your five-year goals?” 

Then after all that, JJ was alone in the front room with him and asked, “Do you really love me the same as Pope?” 

“Uh-huh,” Heyward said, searching between the couch cushions for the remote.

“Do you think you’re gonna stop?” 

Heyward finally found the remote and switched to the Food Network. “Kid, in two days I am going to thaw a frozen mouse to feed your snake. I am going to hold a dead mouse, for you. Get it?” 

“Yeah,” JJ agreed. “I think so.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When JJ started packing the ugly vinyl bag he got from the group home with clothes and migraine meds and shit, he realized that bringing weed was precisely not following his promise to Heyward.

The group home itself was the last time JJ went more than a couple days without getting high and it fucking sucked. He hated not having weed. Even if he went a few days without smoking by his own choice, just knowing he had some made him feel better. During winters with Dad, it almost bothered him more not to have weed than to not have food. Almost. 

Like, not really. 

But. 

As long as he was holding, he knew that if he started freaking out, or shit didn’t stop in his brain, or things got the bad kind of floaty, he could fix it. Immediately. If he was bored and wanted to be having a better time, here’s something that makes everything more fun, right away. If he didn’t really know how to talk to new people, _bam,_ instant solution. 

Weed was a goddamn miracle of nature, but it would be stupid selfish to bring on the trip. 

He wished he had arrived at this problem two days earlier and George could have said all kinds of reasonable shit about it. Their last two times he’d gone had been pretty chill, JJ honestly didn’t want to get real again so soon because it was fucking exhausting. Instead of crying and shit, they went on walks both times and just talked. They were only going to meet one more time before school started. 

“Am I still going to do this when I go back to school?” JJ asked at the end of the last time. “I’m pretty sure I saw you enough for Family Court to be happy about it.”

“That could be true, but we should keep going. Do you want to?” 

JJ shrugged. “You have other kids, like, real kids, you should be seeing.”

“I have time to see you. And I’m pretty sure you’re real.” 

“And I have school, and I actually have to _go_ now, and I have work. And it takes me forever to get here. I’m not that fucked up to make it worth it.”

“JJ, do you want to still see me when school starts?” 

He sighed. “Yeah.” 

“Then we’ll figure it out.” 

If JJ realized the weed problem earlier and could talk to him, George would probably ask what happened last time JJ didn’t smoke for three days, and JJ would say, “I punched Evander Wilson in the face,” and George would say, “Was there a time that you didn’t smoke for three days and things were alright?” and JJ would say, “Yeah, I was busy during spring break and just didn't. It was okay,” and Geroge would say, “Let’s make this like that time.” 

Fuck. No wonder people who followed rules were assholes. 

Being good was so much fucking work. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Even with all that preparing, when they left early on Thursday morning, it felt like they were sneaking away. Like the fugitives they were, just over a year ago. 

They took the Nissan, because Kie briefly explained that her car had to be at Opal’s house while they were gone. They picked her up there, standing outside her car with a duffle bag under her arm. She wore long silver earrings that shimmered in the barely there light of the rising sun. 

She climbed into the backseat and threw her bag in the back. Grinning, she leaned forward to kiss Pope, and hug JJ. 

“We have been seriously lacking in triad shit,” she said as they drove towards the 12. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“We spent seven hours together yesterday,” Pope pointed out.

“Wasn’t triad shit,” Kie said, “I’ve missed you guys.” 

JJ totally understood what she meant. 

Once they got past where his neurologist was, they were further into North Carolina than JJ had ever been. It was trees and trees and trees and trees. He took over driving and Pope took photos of the trees as they passed. 

“You guys know you have to get an apartment with me in my mind too, right?” Kie said after she was finished reading their schedule for the day out loud. They were going to walk around UNC’s campus for a couple hours, then go to open houses for apartments that she’d found online. “Like with storage for me, an adequate kitchen for me. I’m going to be traveling, but you’re going to be my home.” 

“I don’t know,” JJ said, “I might get a full scholarship somewhere else, then what?” 

“ _What?”_

“Our mom thinks we might not live together, for some reason,” Pope explained. 

“Your mom doesn’t have all the information,” Kie said, “When are you going to tell her about JJ being QP?” 

“I guess soon,” Pope said. 

JJ kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to smack him in the face. “You’re the one who said they wouldn’t get it. That’s not what it’s about.” 

“We should still try,” Pope said, “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” 

Kiara sarcastically yelled, “Whaaaaaa? A nonperfect event? Involving Pope?” 

“Shut up,” Pope said, “I gotta put all my perfect energy into this visit.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Kie told him what was in the letters. 

He actually slept over at her house on a Wednesday, because they spent so long going over the letters and talking about them and making ice cream sundaes and getting high, then falling asleep in the movie theater. 

The early letters all contained the same things. Mom had gone to stay with a town that she lived in after she got out of a state rehab a few years ago, with a friend from rehab. In each letter, she’d go into great, non-anonymous detail about the people in her meetings. But she also provided very specific instructions to Aunt Mimi about making sure JJ was going to school and had clean clothes. She would ask veiled questions about how Dad was doing, then change the subject right away. 

“You talk exactly like this,” Kie said after she read one. “Just everything all at once.” 

Mom didn’t refer to anything that Aunt Mimi might have written back, or even ask a question about Aunt Mimi and Esther. There was a full year gap between letters, then Mom returned with a nine-page letter that Kie read out loud, talking about how she’d had a heart attack and learned she had the heart of a 90-year-old, and she had to stop using everything and live like an old lady in order to live.

“‘So I realized I had to get my life set,’” Kie read, “‘I had to stop trying to kill myself. I had to stop acting like I was going to die in a week. It turns out, deciding that I would survive was all it would take to change.” 

JJ understood every second of her letter. He knew exactly what she went through, and felt kind of sad that she didn’t think she was going to live longer than a week until she was thirty. He was pretty sure he’d already got past that. 

He still felt surprised when weeks and weeks went by without getting in a fight, or being hit or hungry. Planning on getting good enough grades during senior year, just to get the tech scholarship, still felt silly because he could be dead or in prison by the end of the year. But he probably wouldn’t be. Part of JJ still felt silly for believing that he was actually going to be okay. 

But believing it felt like the sun hitting his skin, and being _right_. And that was scary, but also kind of exhilarating. He understood why Mom wrote for nine pages, feeling that way. 

The letter ended with, “‘Glad JJ and Luke are good.’” Kie handed it over, so JJ could look at it himself like they’d done with all the letters. “So, that’s the last time she asks about you. There are a few more letters but that's it.” 

“Rude,” JJ said, looking over the doodles she’d put in the margins. He found the end and read it after just two tries. _Glad JJ and Luke are good._ “She hadn’t talked to Mimi in a year. We could have been dead. What an idiot.” 

“I know she’s your mom,” Kie said, “But she kind of sucks.” 

“She’s just like a kid,” JJ said, “She always was.” 

They got done with the letters after Kie summed up how in _loooove_ Mom was with the lady she eventually married. She didn’t say anything about when or how she divorced Dad, which JJ was curious about but not curious enough to go ask Dad, at least for now. 

It was a relief when the night turned into eating ice cream and falling asleep on the lounge chairs in the movie theater. In the morning, Kie’s mom woke them up and politely kicked JJ out in that passive-aggressive furious rich person way. She even gave JJ a tub of leftovers from the restaurant while she pushed him out of the house, smiling stiffly and saying, “We’ll _invite_ you over another time.” 

JJ snuck back in the backdoor five minutes later and accidentally scared Kie when he went upstairs and asked for his first-mom’s address. 

“Did you forget about texting?” Kie whispered incredulously. 

“Just give it to me, before I change my mind,” he whispered back. 

Kie did this little whisper scream between her teeth and pushed JJ into her bedroom. She opened her laptop and wrote something down on a post-it. “Promise me you won’t go there without us,” she demanded.

“I promise,” JJ said. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It turned out college was just about gouging people out of their money full time, because they drove around for an hour, trying to find a place to park that didn’t require coins or a credit card. They’d come with plenty of cash, but no coins. 

JJ drove so that at least while they went in circles like idiots, Pope got to see the school. He rolled the windows all the way open and pretty quick JJ realized he’d have to slow down, because Pope practically tumbled out of the window a few times trying to see buildings and statues. 

“I didn’t know if it was this big,” he said breathlessly. “Oh man. It’s like a kingdom.” 

“Nerd alert,” Kie said, “Hey it looks like we can park by some gardens? Or something?” 

Their high school hadn’t started yet, but UNC was already started, and there were people everywhere. Pope insisted that they all dress nice to fit in, but the people just looked like them on days they didn’t do shit work. Everyone was wearing t-shirts and shit. JJ’s understanding of college was rapidly shifting, and he saw that Pope’s was too. 

And he was kind of melting down. 

“Call Ezekiel,” he demanded when Pope almost fell out the window again. “Get him to tell us where to park.” 

“He’s at work,” Pope said.

“He will walk out of court to help you with this,” JJ pointed out. 

Ezekiel sent them to a parking garage that he excitedly told them was right by the well. When they parked, JJ and Kie got out of the car, but Pope stayed right where it was. Kie opened the door and crouched by him and said, “What’s going on, Pope?” 

“I think we should wait,” Pope said, “Tomorrow me and Kie have the prospective students' day. We shouldn’t be here yet. We don’t have permission.” 

“I’m sorry, can I talk to the Pope who turned trespassing into an art?” Kie said, “Who goes on private property as a hobby?” 

“It’s not the same.” 

“You’re supposed to be here,” she said, “You are doing this school a favor by even considering coming here.” 

“Yeah,” Pope said. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Kie said back louder. 

“Yeah!” Pope yelled, and got out of the car all in one move. He slammed the car door and stood tall. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


They spent so long walking around campus that they missed the first apartment showing Kie wanted to go to. It really was like a different planet, Pope wasn’t too far off calling it a kingdom. The well Ezekiel insisted they see turned out to be a monument to a drinking fountain. They went inside a library that was ten times bigger than their school. Kie talked Pope into going to the bookstore and buy a t-shirt. Then Pope doubled back half an hour later to buy a sweatshirt too. 

“I can totally go here,” Pope said. “No doubt about it.” 

The place they _definitely_ weren’t welcome was both apartment tours they visited. Kie owned up right away to messing up, because the places were way off campus and were meant for real adults. The people in charge clocked them as teenagers--and poor ones, and were all pretty fucking rude. 

JJ got very annoyed when at the second place, the short Karen of a lady found them talking in an empty bedroom and said, “Have you seen everything?” 

“Mostly,” Kie said in her bright, rich person voice. 

“Then it’s time to leave.” 

“We’re not done. We’re not going anywhere,” JJ said. Pope pinched his elbow. This super was not what they talked about with their dad, but JJ couldn’t stop. “Actually, could you bring us some of those cookies? Thanks.”

“This is for adults,” the Karen said, “with money.” 

JJ pulled all of their trip money out of his waistband. It was a fat stack and she probably felt stupid now. “Oh shit. Let’s go guys. Someone else can have our money.” 

“I will call the police,” the Karen said. 

Fuck, being responsible was so much fucking work. He wanted to rob this lady and smash out her car windows. Instead, JJ huffed and put the money away. They headed for the door. Kie stopped by the Karen. 

They waited for her to serve a classic Kiara takedown, but instead, she just grinned and sang, “Fuck you, Karen!” 

As they ran out of the apartment, she yelled back, “How many times do I have to tell people that’s _not my name!”_

They drove a block away before Kie had to stop the car because they were all laughing too hard to do anything else. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Pope insisted they not crash a party and possibly get him in trouble with the university before his interview, so they spent all night at the motel. It was called Seaside Escape, presumably because they had a ship in the bottle by the TV, and absolutely nothing else. JJ spent a long time trying to pull it off the table it was glued to and got nowhere. Who glues things down? So untrusting. 

JJ decided to leave everything illegal at home, but Kie did not. She produced a fifth of whisky, and they spent hours drinking from the bottle and walking across the queen beds. _Then_ they had to wake up fuck early in the morning to get breakfast before Kie and Pope’s day of prospective student activities. 

“You’re going to go see the tech college right?” Pope asked while they waited for change from their breakfast bill. 

“Yeah,” JJ said. “I’ll do that while you guys are doing your tours and shit.” 

“We should have booked you a tour,” Pope said. “I under-planned for your college experience.” 

“So did I,” JJ said, “I don’t care that much. I’ll drop you guys off and meet you at the parking garage when you’re done.” 

JJ was trying to be a good person, but lying was still very helpful sometimes. 

After he dropped them off on campus, JJ drove until the college buildings faded, and he stopped by a park with a playground. He fished the post-it out of his backpack and carefully entered Mom’s address into his phone. 

The moment that the directions loaded and told him he was less than a mile away was so surreal that JJ had to close his eyes and breathe for a minute before he went anywhere. 

During one of their last sessions, George told JJ that people who dissociate don’t have to just float away, they can do something called “grounding” and look at things that remind them they are really there, and life is real. He skipped pretending not to know JJ was talking about himself when he asked about it during the intense session a few weeks back, which was honestly a relief.

JJ hooked a finger under his bracelets and pulled. The threads pressed against his wrist and he looked over each of them and remembered where they came from and when he got them and that was real and so was he and he could do this. 

Since JJ had decided he was going to Mom’s house alone, he had been waiting for a plan to come to mind fully formed. It happened often enough for other things, why wouldn’t his brain spontaneously figure out how to handle this? 

But JJ parked across the street from the house that Google Maps said was hers, and he had no plan. 

The half form plans felt stupid now. One plan was for him to knock on the door and act like a stranger, and ask for directions. Gas. To use their phone. Anything. But maybe Chapel Hill wasn’t like Kildare, he was pretty sure that wasn’t normal everywhere. 

Then he thought, maybe he’d just sit and watch and eventually see Mom, maybe, and that would be enough. 

Or maybe he’d knock on the door, and say exactly who he was and exactly what he wanted. 

Maybe he’d figure out what that was real soon. 

The house looked like a family on TV’s house. It had white paint around the windows, and brick on the lower half of the walls. The porch was small, but it had a white swing. The yard was impossibly green, and there were flowers. The house was close to the street, and so close to the next house that the only thing separating them was the driveway. Which was covered in sidewalk chalk. 

Gemma and Aster had sidewalk chalk. JJ babysat them once and they spent the entire day drawing worlds on the driveway. It was a lot of fun, if he wasn’t seventeen, and they had a driveway at home, he would totally want to play with sidewalk chalk more often. 

Someone at Mom’s house had plenty of time to do just that. 

If Mom had a new kid, JJ was going to fucking steal that kid and take him home so the Heywards could save him too. 

He still didn’t have a plan. 

Like she figured out what he was doing with her JJ Sonar, real-mom called him. 

“Are you at your school?” she asked, “I know you’re seeing it today.” 

“Uh,” JJ looked around for something vaguely tech college like to describe. “Yeah. There aren’t any lockers. Weird.” 

“Am I interrupting? You should be talking to people there.” 

“No, no one is talking to me. It’s not that big a deal, not like Pope.” 

“You’re going to be the first person in your family to go to college. And, if you start classes before Pope, you’ll be the first one in _our_ family. Wouldn’t that upset him?” 

JJ couldn’t help laughing. “Oh man. That would destroy him.” 

“You should ask someone when classes start next year. I’ll let you go. I just wanted to see how you are.” 

“Do you think I could leave and it’d be okay?” JJ asked, “If I already saw what I wanted to see at the school, I mean.” 

Mom paused. “Yeah, honey. Go get a milkshake or something. You can always leave.” 

JJ took a deep breath. “Okay.” 

“You know that you can choose a program closer to us and live at home, right?” 

It took him a minute to process that. It kind of hurt, her pushing that he shouldn’t come here. “I’m going to live with Pope, Mom. We both want to.” 

“I know,” Mom said quickly, “I just want you to know, if you aren’t ready to leave home, we aren’t kicking you out. You haven’t had that much time feeling safe, and you can spend more time at home if you’re not ready. Me and your dad both think so.” 

Oh. 

That was--

“That’s not what I thought you meant.” 

“Well, that is what I meant.” 

He looked at first-mom’s house. Someone could be home. It was the middle of the day, lights off didn’t mean anything. Mom could be _right there._

He realized that the reason all his plans were half-done was because they were all terrible. 

“I’m gonna leave,” he told her. 

“Okay,” Mom said, “Call me later if you want to. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He was going to leave. 

He could leave. 

JJ started the car, but he kept looking at Mom’s house, hoping someone was home. That someone would pull up the house and get out of a car, and it would be Mom. 

He turned off the car and got out. 

Fuck it. Fuck being reasonable. 

Fuck being good. 

JJ didn’t come this far to drive away. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp*
> 
> Chapter title is from Elijah by (who else but) the Mountain Goats. It's such a good one y'all. I mean, they all are. 
> 
> I'm planning on one more chapter (maybe two if things get tricky)
> 
> As always, I LIVE to hear what you think! Please please comment


	12. There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better, you'll rise up free and easy on that day

No one answered at first. 

So JJ knocked again. 

Then he went to check the door before he remembered he wasn’t at home anymore, and he didn’t know the people inside. 

So he didn’t try to open the door, he just turned the knob a tiny bit. It was locked. 

He knocked again. Louder. 

JJ was gearing up to start pounding on the door when he heard a sound by the driveway. He moved to the edge of the porch in time to see a woman coming through the door in the wood fence to the backyard. 

“I can year you clear across the house,” she said, “What do you want?” 

It wasn’t his mom. 

He recognized her from the photographs on Facebook. Dark hair, short and chubby with bright green sunglasses balanced on her head. Maya Werner, the lady Mom married. 

“Hi,” JJ said. 

“Can I help you?” Maya asked, not stepping past the wood fence. JJ didn’t move an inch off the porch. 

“Is Lulu here?” 

Maya squinted. “Louisa?” she said slowly, like JJ had made a mistake. Mom’s Facebook did say Louisa. Maybe that was her name now. He wouldn’t call himself John Jacob online for any reason. 

Maya closed the fence behind her and came to stand on the grass by the porch. “Are you from the New Horizons?” 

“I’m JJ. Maybank,” he said. 

Even though this was a very unpredictable situation, Maya didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Okay,” she said, “Huh. Uh, does she know you were coming?” 

“No.” 

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No.” 

“Is your dad here?” 

Fuck her. 

JJ jumped off the porch. “Forget it. Tell her I’m not dead, or whatever.” He walked past Maya on his way to the car, but she grabbed his arm. JJ yanked it back and stepped away from her. “ _ What? _ ” 

Maya held her hands up in surrender. ‘Hey. I gotta look out for my friend, okay? If you’re here for some, revenge or something, I gotta know about that.” 

_ Some people are preoccupied with getting revenge on an abuser _

Why did he come alone? That was such a stupid thing to do. “I just want to see her,” he said. 

_ Other people--more people in my experience--are preoccupied with gaining their abusers’ love. _

That worked, for some reason. Maya nodded and pointed her thumb at the backyard. “Louisa isn’t here. I need to call her and let her know what’s going on. Come on back, I’ll get you a drink.” 

It turned out Maya’s idea of “a drink” was just sweet tea, and JJ fought the impulse to tell Maya that sweet tea was sweet tea and a drink was a drink. He didn’t have to fight that very long, she left JJ sitting on a metal patio chair while she went inside to call  _ Louisa _ . 

There was an old, dirty yellow toy house on the east side of the yard, a small red trampoline, and a Slip n Slide with a hose lying over it. Mom’s new kid was a fucking Kook.

“Hey,” Maya said. She stepped out and closed a sliding door behind her. JJ sat up and tried to see into the house, but he couldn’t see much with the sun reflecting off the glass. “Louisa is going to be here in a few minutes. She’s checking out at Trader Joes.”

“What did she say?” JJ asked. 

Maya sat down across from him and opened a can of beer. “Pretty much what I said.” 

“Oh,” JJ said. 

“She’s worked really hard to distance herself from that part of her life,” Maya explained like that made it  _ better.  _

JJ froze. “Well, I’ll tell you, she’s done a really great job.” 

"She wants to see you," Maya said. "She said that." 

JJ shrugged and looked over the toys in the yard. "How old is the kid?" 

Maya drummed her nails against the beer can. "Eight. She's my daughter from a previous marriage--" She cut herself off and looked at JJ, checking. 

"I already know you're married," he said. "It's public record. Your address too, you should probably change that." 

"Geez," Maya said, "Thanks for telling me." 

He tried to figure out how to ask if the kid was being taken care of without getting kicked out. Maya seemed kind of normal, but that didn't mean much. 

"Does she go to school?" he settled on. 

Maya grinned. "As of Monday. She's so happy to be back. We are too, our days are a lot calmer." 

"You don't like having her around?" 

She didn't like that at all. Maya looked at him like he was made of slime. "Of course we do. I work, but Louisa has been taking her all over this summer. They are thick as thieves, I'm jealous sometimes." 

"She--" JJ paused and willed himself to remember that they were talking about the same person. "She took me with her in the summer too. When she was home, I mean." 

Somehow that made Maya more uncomfortable. She got up, leaving the beer. “Have you had lunch? I could get you lunch.” 

“Sure.” 

“Are you a vegan? Vegetarian?” JJ shook his head. Maya stood up. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll be right back.” 

Like JJ was so poisonous. Like he would corrupt their house if he came inside. 

When she left, JJ waited ten seconds. Then he downed her beer and fucked off. He let himself out through the fence and got in his car just in time to start sobbing like a little kid. 

JJ hated crying so much and he kept trying to stop but he  _ couldn’t.  _ Fuck, this was so fucking stupid. So many worse things had happened than this. Maya Werner offering to make him lunch was nothing to cry about. Why was he crying? He had to stop, right now. 

A knock on the window just about scared JJ out of his body. He stopped crying, immediately, and looked out the window, already reaching with his right hand for something to hit with. 

“It’s me,” he heard through the window, “It’s me, it’s me.” 

JJ wiped his eyes one more time and rolled the window down. Mom was crouching near the window and smiled wide when she saw him. She was wearing a big black sweatshirt and earrings and she looked like a cleaned up, best-possible-day version of his mom, new tooth and all. 

“Hi,” she said, “Can I get in?” 

Shit. It was really happening. 

“I guess,” he said. Mom nodded and hit the side of his door once, then walked around the car and got in the passenger seat, like JJ was about to take her to dance class or something. She grinned at the handle that rolled the windows down, and turned it until her window was open too. 

“How old is this car?” 

He wanted to hug her so badly. He wanted to bury his head in her chest and wait until she said how much she loved him. 

“‘97.” 

“I was a kid then,” she laughed. "This is an antique."

He wanted to scream at her for all the pain she’d caused, and let her know exactly how destroyed he was. 

“It drives,” JJ said. He looked over at her house and saw that a new looking SUV was now in the driveway. “You’re actually rich now, huh?” 

“I’m not rich,” Mom said. "We don't even own that house."

“Your kid has toys,” JJ said. “Crazy.” 

“You--” Mom cut herself off and took a deep breath. “It’s good to see you. You look good." She gestured vaguely to the wrinkled button-up shirt he was wearing. “Maybe you’re rich too, huh?” 

“Nope,” JJ said. “I was supposed to go visit a nice place. That’s why I’m wearing this.” 

“Well,” Mom said, “I’m glad you’re here?” 

JJ looked at her directly for the first time. “Really?” 

“Surprised,” Mom added, “But happy. Do you want to come inside?”

He couldn’t look at the house again, with the chalk and the wife and kid inside. “Not really.” 

“Can I talk to you here?” Mom asked. JJ shrugged. “You seem okay, huh?” 

“I’m good,” JJ said. 

“Are you living here now?” 

He shook his head “I’m visiting with friends. They’re looking at UNC.” 

“Not you?” 

“No,” JJ said, “Still stupid.” 

“Oh no, you’re not,” Mom said. She touched his shoulder and ran her thumb over the fabric of his shirt a few times before letting go. “You know that--that’s my fault.” 

“I know,” JJ said. He wasn’t sure if that was about Mom not taking him to school, or genetics, or confirming Dad’s allegations that she was getting high while pregnant, but he already kind of blamed her no matter what, so he didn’t feel bad saying it. 

Mom winced. “But you were so good at math.” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” JJ said. He wanted to tell her about the scholarship because his real mom was right, it was a really big deal. But that was talking about something that happened yet, it could get taken away, that he suddenly thought maybe  _ she  _ could take it away, so he didn’t say shit. 

Mom smiled anyway. “That’s great. Good. Are you going to graduate?” 

“Probably.” 

“That’s so good. I didn’t--I got my GED though, a couple of years ago. I don’t know if your dad even went to high school. Don’t be like us, that’s a recipe for a good life.” 

He pointed at the nice house and car. “Doesn’t seem like being you is that bad.” 

“I guess. Do you still live on Kildare?"

“Yeah.” 

She scratched her shoulder and nodded. “It’s a really hard place to live. You should be thinking about moving. Life is a lot easier--a lot cheaper--just about anywhere else.” 

“I’m not gonna leave,” JJ said, even though his being here was about leaving. 

“Everything is just worse,” Mom plowed on. “Everyone’s on drugs, and the hurricanes try to kill us five times a year. Like last year, were you okay last year?” 

Was she asking because she knew? Maybe she did know. Maybe DCS did contact her and she just ignored it. “What?” 

“Hurricane Agatha. It was so big, I saw you didn’t have power for weeks. Were you okay?” 

She didn’t know shit. 

“Why?” JJ asked. 

“Well it’s annoying--”

Somehow that was worse.    
  


JJ cut her off. “No. I wasn’t.” 

Mom went silent a second. "That's too bad." 

That didn't sound very real at all. JJ nodded toward the house. "Are you taking care of this kid?" 

"Of course I am." 

"What do you mean 'of course?'" JJ shot back.

Mom's face got all wrinkled. "She's Maya's kid. Mine too, I guess. She's so quiet, so different than you." 

JJ got a sinking feeling in his gut. Maybe Mom loved the new kid because she was quiet. She always hated when JJ made noise. If he was quiet--

No. 

Fuck that. No. His real parents sometimes thought it was funny when he talked nonstop, and when they didn't, they still didn't abandon him for six years. 

"Are you using?" 

She smacked her hand on the dashboard and JJ jumped. "No. God. No." 

"Whatever," JJ said.

Mom shook her head. “I’ve been sober for four years? It’s been really hard, but I did it. You know with me and your dad, you’re at real high risk for addiction, right? I can kind of smell weed in here and I just hope you’re being careful. You know, I work the program--it was hard out on the banks, only a few meetings a week and everyone’s always up each other's butts already. But I hit a good thing here. So. Four years. Nothing. I’m like a Mormon now.” 

Aside from all the crying, JJ had felt pretty calm for most of this, but somewhere in that ridiculous monologue, unfathomable anger started flooding his system. One second countdown anger. 

“Four years?” JJ asked. 

“And a couple of months,” Mom boasted. 

When Kie read the heart attack letter, he felt so much empathy for her. He thought they were just the same. It felt good, being just the same as one of his first-parents in a way that wouldn’t destroy lives. But having her sitting right next to him, and remembering, it didn’t feel that way anymore. 

JJ laughed a little. “Jesus. Do you want me to be proud of you?” 

“It’s hard,” Mom said, getting loud. 

“Oh shit,” JJ said, “Of course. It’s all about how hard it was for you.” 

“That’s not--” 

“Right. Okay. Four years. So that’s me almost getting held back, twice. Dad breaking my wrist, collarbone, arm, and giving me brain damage. I mean, God knows how many beatings, I sure can’t keep track. Got arrested for stealing food when I was thirteen, and got arrested again two times after that. That was fun. And John B fucking disappeared. Four years that I was constantly terrified and probably should have died. But you were sober. Congratulations. Great job, Mom.” 

There was dead silence in the car for a long time. So long that JJ started to feel guilty, and like he should make things better by saying he  _ didn’t  _ get held back, and it was actually just postconcussive syndrome and really he was fine fine fine. But Mom started talking before he got to that point. 

"I--I’m sorry. I didn’t think your dad would--I thought it was over.” 

“What? It was never over. You never came back.” 

Mom nodded. “I--I couldn’t be sober there. Okay? Your dad, his family. The way things were. I’d be no better for you than him if I came back.” 

He took a minute to process that. “You could have taken me. You have a kid now. Why don’t you want me?” 

“C’mon man,” she said. That was all she said. All sad like he’d hurt her feelings. Which, maybe he did, but  _ so what _

“You know,” JJ said, “I’ve been dying to sit here with you for months. I thought maybe you’d be ready to be my mom now, like you couldn't before. And I’d tell you what happened to me and it’d matter. Even a little.” 

“It matters," she cried.

No revenge. No love. All that was left was the truth.

JJ pulled on his bracelets. He was real and so was this and he would survive this moment. This was the story.

“Yeah, it does. It really fucking does. But if it mattered to you, you wouldn't have left me there," he said. 

When he was little, he hated himself for not being worth keeping. For not being worth looking at, half the time. When he got older, he figured out that Dad just sucked. Didn't make things perfect, but at least it wasn't all his fault.

It never occurred to him that she sucked too, and that was all there was to it. 

None of this was his fault.

“I gotta go,” he said, “Get out of my car.” 

She looked at him like he was crazy. “JJ, we’ve been talking for three minutes. It’s been six years, we have more to talk about.” 

He laughed, he couldn’t help it. "You know what? I also came first in a surf competition four years in a row. I got 'Most Persistent' in my English class. I make the highest tips at my job because I'm so good at making people feel important. I'm in a relationship that makes my life feel amazing every day. I saved my best friend's life. And I'm gonna get adopted by people who actually love me. I'm awesome, I am so great. You missed out and that's okay because you're never gonna be part of my story again.” 

“Hey,” she said, “That’s not true. I’m still your mother.” 

“Oh, you super are not. I’m allowed to leave. Get out.” 

She made an aggravated sound, like he was standing in front of the TV. "Come on. I  _ just  _ found out. I'm not magic. Give me a break." 

“Get the fuck out of my car!” JJ screamed. 

She crossed her arms and stared out the windshield. “I’m not moving.” 

This was getting to look like one of the fights he remembered between her and Dad, and JJ wasn’t in any kind of mood to replicate that shit.

"Fine," he said, "let's go inside." 

She huffed. "Thank you."

They got out at the same time and once they got halfway across the street, JJ slowed down. He waited until she was almost at the porch before turning around and running to his car.

"Hey!" she yelled, "Come back!"

He started the car and for once, the engine turned over on the first try. As he drove away he saw that she hadn't taken a step closer to him since he turned around. 

He drove way too fast through the quiet streets. Air rushed through the open windows and he felt a little giddy. Despite all the bullshit and hurt and terrible, just this once, he was the one leaving her.    
  


For once this shit was on his terms. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The rest of the trip passed without JJ telling Pope and Kiara what happened. 

He used to lie more often than he told the truth. He used to be a series of secrets in the shape of a person. Going a while without holding onto one didn’t make him any less good at it. 

Pope left the prospective students' day with plenty to talk about. He and Kie were the only people who didn't have a parent with them, and they said the parents did all the talking. 

"I asked how much time there was between classes and all these rich people looked at me like I was stupid," Pope said. "I'm not stupid, I'm getting in on my merits alone, all those mute rich babies probably weren't allowed on campus without their parents buying a building first." 

Pope was in a great mood, even when he talked about things that bothered him. He described his interview with the admissions person four times.

"I'd watched fake interviews on YouTube with Dad," Pope told Kie, because JJ was very aware of this. "So I knew not to hide my ‘diverse’ background. And I also didn’t run out in the middle of it. I think that improved things quite a bit.” 

Kie would reveal that she was a little impressed and interested in UNC periodically, then almost catch herself and reel it back like, “I’ll be traveling, duh, but it’ll be nice to come here when I’m not.” 

They asked about the tech college, and JJ lied really great and didn’t even get close to getting found out. 

The closest he got was when he hid in the bathroom to call Mom while they were getting ready to go to a party Pope got invited to when they got lunch on campus. He sat in the bathtub fully dressed and felt anxious until she answered on the fourth ring. She didn’t act particularly surprised that he’d called her back on the same day, she just asked much more specific questions that JJ had to lie about. 

“Do we still have pretzels at home?” was his first question when all that was over. 

“Unless you daddy ate a whole three-pound jar, yep, we do.” 

“Did we have a meeting with my school next week or something? I don’t remember.” 

“We have your IEP the week after school starts. Corrine is coming next week, that’s what you’re thinking of. Are you feeling nervous, honey?” 

“I just wanna know if things are the same.” 

“They are,” she promised, “As much as possible.” 

“Are you gonna be there when we get home?” he asked.

“I’ll be at church, unless y’all dilly dally and don’t get home until the afternoon. Did Pope tell you we want you both home by five?” 

“We’ll be back before then,” JJ said, running his finger against the white tile by the tub. 

“Yes, but I want you in the house with me by five. Okay?” 

“Okay. Can we make dinner together or something?” 

“Absolutely. I don’t know how I’m going to handle you boys being gone, I already miss you so much.” 

His face felt warm. “Did Dad feed my snake?” 

“Oh yes,” she said. “He really had to work himself up to do it. I thought I’d have to come in there with him.” 

“But he did it?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. 

Pope barged in without knocking. He stopped short and said, “Sor--” then cut himself off when he realized what he’d walked in on. “What are you doing?” 

“Talking to Mom. Do you want to talk to her?” 

“Okay. Yeah,” Pope said, reaching for his phone. He walked away saying, “Hey Mom, guess what we saw in a science lab?” 

When he was done he asked JJ, “Why did you call Mom?” 

“To tell her about Durham Tech,” JJ said. “We going to this party or what?” 

College parties weren’t better than parties at home, except that there was more cocaine but that didn’t really make them better. JJ found pot and got high as quickly as he could, and taught some rich kids from Georgia how to roll a joint. Even though they were breaking like, nineteen of Heyward’s rules, no one got arrested or died. It was kind of funny, how many freshmen there were who acted like they’d never been anywhere before. JJ hoped Pope recognized how much further along he’d been than his classmates, at least in this arena. 

They walked back to the motel at three AM and still didn’t die, and they spent all of Saturday walking around Chapel Hill, then they went to another even lamer party, and then they went to sleep, and then they woke up and drove home, and JJ was embarrassingly happy to be going home. 

They stopped at a McDonald's not that far from the 12, because Kie was so hungry she threatened to jump out of the car and disappear into the woods to forage for berries. They brought their food in the car, Pope sat in the only seat in the back, while JJ and Kie sat on the floor next to him. Kiara rolled down all the windows before they started eating. 

They’d spent all of the trip rapidly rolling the windows up and down between bouts of rain and heat. “We need a car with air conditioning,” Pope said between fries. “Maybe we should buy another car. Chapel Hill is so much bigger, can't walk as much as at home.” 

“This is my car,” JJ said, “If you buy a new car it’s all you, and I’ll pay you back for half of Sunday Sunday Sunday. Actually, less. Depreciation.”

“Dude, I mean in like, three years,” Pope said, “We can’t afford another car. But thanks for confirming that--” Pope stopped midway to eating a fry and froze when ketchup fell on his blue UNC shirt. 

"Noo," he moaned. "No no no." In three quick moves, he pulled his shirt off and grabbed napkins and a water bottle, and got to work like he was performing surgery. "Why did it eat with this on? I should never eat in regalia. Damn it." 

"It's going to be okay Pope," Kie said in a turbo sweet voice. Pope made a disagreeing noise and kept working. She poked JJ in the leg. "Hey, I thought you were going to buy a Durham Tech shirt." 

All he had to say was that the store was out, but he didn't. 

"Um. I have to tell you guys something." 

He talked and talked and they listened and listened. When he stopped, Kie kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. "Why would you do that alone? We were in this together." 

"I was just embarrassed. I kind of knew it'd go bad and didn't want you to see." 

Pope rolled his eyes. "Dude. All we do is go through embarrassing things in front of each other. Kie and I were mortified all day. Hell, I was embarrassed for weeks when you moved in." 

"What? Why?" 

"Because our parents are super lame. And I had to be lame at home, and you’d only ever gotten the cool version of me. I mean, turned out you love being lame, but anyway. I'm not responsible for my parents' lameness any more than you're responsible for your parents' suckness. Which is zero percent." 

JJ digested that then noticed how chill Pope was being. “Wait, you didn’t even know we found Lulu.” 

Pope wiggled his hand like  _ kind of.  _ “Uh, Kie told me about Facebook and the marriage license and stuff. And that she found Lulu.” 

He pushed Kiara’s head off his shoulder. “ _ Dude.”  _

“Pogues don’t keep secrets,” she said loudly. 

“Why would you let me think it was a secret? So fucking shady,” he complained. 

“Honestly?” she said, balling up her food wrappers. “We’ve been on JJ patrol all summer, trying to avoid you stealing 25k or like, killing your dad or something.” 

“That's _last_ summer,” he said. 

“Well whatever,” Pope said, “You’ve been bugging out--like you’re always bugging out. Sometimes we make strategic decisions in the interest of you not imploding.” 

Fine. 

He cleared his throat. “Please notice that I didn’t kill anyone, or steal anything. I had a conversation, with a shitty person. I’m very impressed with me, and you should be too.” 

“Real talk?” Pope said, “I am impressed as hell. Are we telling our parents?” 

JJ balled up his trash and climbed into the driver's seat. “Fuck no. Lying to your parents is still a vital part of Pogue life.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


They dropped Kie off at Opal’s house, and left her to do the final steps of her master plan to go on the trip undetected by her parents. Her car was exactly where she left it, no worse for wear. She leaned through the driver's window and kissed Pope. 

“Okay,” she told them, “Rixton’s Cove in about an hour? I’ll bring the beer.” 

“Uh,” JJ said, “We just spent four days together. I wanna shower and pass out.” 

Kie brought her hands to his face and gasped, “You just hurt my feelings so badly John Jacob Heyward Maybank. An hour. Rixton’s Cove.” 

Pope didn’t even want to go home, he insisted that JJ come hang out with him at World of Suds while his mortally stained UNC shirt got washed, then go right to the cove. JJ argued back, “I need to check on Dr. Felonious Rex, and you need soap? Is our house burned down? Let’s go back for like, two minutes.” 

“Fine,” Pope relented. “But just two minutes. I'm staying in the car with the engine running.” 

The house was dark, but it still had the stiff, thick heat that had been inescapable all summer. JJ was pretty sure it was because their house was farther from the water, not like the Chateau or his old house. It wasn’t just that, all the people and the talking and the cooking and the compulsory board game was more human activity than his old house ever saw. It made it warmer.

JJ went upstairs to drop off his bag and turned on a light to see into Dr. Felonious Rex’s tank. 

There was a post-it on her tank that read “Fed, 6 PM 8/15 -H” that JJ knew was entirely for his benefit. It matched the labeling system at Heyward's store. Dr. FR was hanging out under her favorite log, looking no worse for his absence. His parents did a very good job taking care of her. Least surprising thing in the world. 

He peeled the post-it off the tank. August 15th. So today was the 17th. 

August 17th last year was the day he got picked up from the group home, he was almost sure. His head was still messed up and he still thought he’d die in a week, but it was just a year ago. A full year. And now it was now, and now it was this story and this story only. 

He got in the car and showed Pope the post-it. “We need to get a cake. It’s my live-aversary.” 

Pope smiled. “Yeah. Um, we don’t have to do that. I’ve been designated to warn you that there’s a surprise party happening later, celebrating our family being a year old. At five, actually. I don’t know why it’s a surprise, since we learned that you cannot handle surprises ten times over. But surprise!” 

He grinned. If anything he did deserved a party, it was the year. “Okay. I mean, not surprising. I’m a gift, I deserve nice things.”

Pope laughed and started the car. 

“Yes,” he agreed, “let’s go hang out with Kie, then you can have all the nice things in the world.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Chapter title from "Up the Wolves" which--If you're gonna listen to one Moutain Goats song from this verse, it's that. 
> 
> Oh boy. Thank you for reading this! I don't have an additional novel-length fic planned at the moment, but I feel far from done with this verse. 
> 
> I poured my heart into this and I'D LOVE to hear what you think! Especially at the end of the journey <3 <3 Comment please!


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